


Everything's A Lie (And You're Afraid)

by orphan_account



Category: Big Time Rush RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Porn, Angst, Community: bigtimebang, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Non-Graphic Physical Abuse, Scene that could be read as dub-con, asshole!Kendall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 10:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 39,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kendall made a vow to himself to never date anyone in the industry, and that really does mean anyone: actors, directors, crew, anyone associated with the business at all. When he signs on for his next project with CP Entertainment, however, that vow goes straight out the window. Despite how cool and relaxed and playful Carlos, the director, is with everyone else, he's more than a little frosty with Kendall, for reasons Kendall doesn't even know. Just when Kendall decides it's not worth the way Carlos is acting toward him, Carlos does a complete 180. It renews Kendall's hope--even though he'll vehemently deny it if asked--and he's certain Carlos feels the same way. One night changes everything, and neither of their lives will ever be the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> written for [bigtimebang](http://bigtimebang.livejournal.com) on Livejournal.
> 
>   
> super fabulous art by [jblostfan16](jblostfan16.livejournal.com)

“So, that's it?” Kyle asks, exasperated.

“Yeah,” Kendall says, “that's it.” His tone is firm, even, shows no hint of the anger and frustration he feels.

“Whatever,” Kyle says, shoulders his bag and slams out of the house, growl from the engine of his car piercing the silence.

Kendall groans and clenches his hands into fists, blows out a breath and drops down onto the sofa. He's tired of this, so fucking tired, fourth relationship in almost as many months down the drain.

He's done everything he can to keep the relationships from crumbling, but when his partner realizes how different he is from what's portrayed onscreen, it goes downhill fast, over before it can even really begin.

It's a part of Kendall's life that he hates: the way he's almost always expected to be a different person, to act a certain way, not be average-Joe Kendall Schmidt but rather Dex Knight, porn star extraordinaire.

It's like they don't understand that what he does on-screen is just a job, a profession, like being a doctor or lawyer or teacher or any other fucking job out there. They're not expected to stay in those roles 24/7, and it's no different for Kendall. When the cameras are on, he's Dex, but when they're off and he's home, he's just Kendall Schmidt, the boy from Kansas who enjoys gardening in his downtime, has a pet turtle and a pet snake and shops organic to save the fucking planet.

Whoever he’s with never seems to see it that way, though. All they see is who he is onscreen and expect that to translate to his everyday life, like they can’t see beyond him being a porn star, like they _don’t_ want to see him beyond that, as though all Kendall is is a pretty face with a pretty mouth and a dick most guys would kill for.

Kendall scrubs a hand over his face then pulls out his phone, taps out a quick text and hits send, moving into his bedroom to shower and get dressed.

\--

By the time he’s done, there’s a message waiting on his phone, Katelyn agreeing to meet him at a bar downtown.

Katelyn’s a godsend, his agent and best friend rolled into one amazing package, the one who’s always stuck by his side, even when his family ditched him because of his career choice.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, was only supposed to be a brief thing Kendall did to save the money he'd need to put himself through school, to help his parents with their mounting bills, but when they found out what he was doing to get the money, they shut him out, said they didn't want or need his dirty money, that no son of theirs was going to do something so disgusting and depraved, that he was no better than a hooker on a street corner, and Kendall found himself suddenly without a family, only Katelyn there to help pick up the pieces.  
He owes her so much, more than money will ever be able to repay her.

Kendall fixes his hair and slips on a pair of beat up tennis shoes, pocketing his wallet and twirling his keys around his finger as he sets the alarm system, the door lock snicking shut behind him.

His car, the first real purchase he made when he started banking more money, a Lexus SUV hybrid, sits in the driveway, the late setting sun reflecting off the black paint.

It's a quick drive to the bar Katelyn agreed to meet him at, a little hole in the wall place that's never too busy or crowded, a place they frequent when Kendall's between projects--or in need of enough alcohol to wash away the bitter unpleasantness of the day without having to worry about someone spotting him and aiming for a hookup.

Katelyn's already seated at the bar by the time Kendall parks and makes his way inside, bottle of beer in her hand and another next to her.

"Took you long enough," she says, smiling, standing up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Kendall's cheek.

"Yeah, yeah," Kendall grumbles, ruffling her hair, smirking when she squawks and bats his hands away.

"How've you been?" Katelyn asks, hands smoothing her hair back into place.

Kendall shrugs, lifts his beer to his lips and swallows a mouthful. "Been better," he says. "Any offers lately?"

"C'mon, Kendall," Katelyn says, shaking her head. "I know you didn't invite me out to talk business. I could've just as easily shown up at your house or called you into the office if that were the case."

Katelyn’s office isn’t really much of an office, per se. It’s more a fancy, decked out room in her house, a large oak desk taking up most the space, a potted plant in each corner, and a filing cabinet that has—honestly, Kendall doesn’t even know what’s in it. He’s never bothered to ask.

Kendall sighs, swallows another mouthful of beer, buying himself some time before he says, "Broke up with Kyle."

"I'm sorry, Kendall," Katelyn says, her small hand covering Kendall's where it's wrapped around his beer bottle. "What happened?"

"Same thing that always happens," Kendall says. "I'm not what they expected and the moment they realize that, it all goes to hell."

Katelyn blows out a slow breath and Kendall braces himself for what he knows she's going to say.

"This is why I said you should stick to dating people in the business," Katelyn says, just like she always does when this happens. "I know you hate hearing it, but Kendall, they know what you're going through and I'm sure the majority of them have had the same problem you're having."

"I get that, Kate, I do, but I don't want to date someone I've fucked on film, or may fuck on film in the future," Kendall says. "Those people are coworkers, people from a different side of my life, a side I don't want carrying over into who I am when I'm not being filmed."

“Should’ve picked a different career, then,” Katelyn says, but the smile playing at the edges of her mouth takes the bite out of her words.

Still, it’s not like it’s something Kendall hasn’t thought thousands of times over the last few years. He’s going on almost 5 years in the porn industry, way longer than he had ever planned, and though he’d really love to stop, find something else to do with his life, the end just doesn’t seem anywhere near. He has more money than he knows what to do with, owns his own house and car and has everything he could ever want, more than enough to put himself through school now, but it feels as though that’s just a dream that’ll never happen.

He can’t imagine himself doing anything outside of porn, doesn’t even want to think about putting himself out there and the reactions he’d get from people who’ve seen the films he’s been in. It’s happened plenty of times with strangers on the street, people he’s met at bars, and it’s awkward enough then. Having to deal with that day in and day out at an actual job or in college with people he’ll see regularly? No, absolutely not. The thought alone is enough to make Kendall’s stomach twist and turn.

“Maybe someday,” Kendall says, finally tuning back into the conversation. “But today, I plan on getting as drunk as my liver can handle.”

Katelyn sighs, signals for the bartender, and a minute later Kendall has a fresh bottle of beer and Katelyn a cup of water.

“Someone’s gotta drive your drunk ass home later,” Katelyn says in response to the pointed look Kendall gives her.

“What about your car?” Kendall asks.

“Left it at home,” Katelyn replies. “Brought a cab here. Figured I’d have to drive you home.”

Kendall frowns, hates that this has become such a common occurrence that Katelyn knows exactly what to do without Kendall even saying anything.

“Cheer up, bucko,” Katelyn says, punching Kendall in the arm. “You’re gonna get rip-roaring drunk, then you’re gonna tell me all about how bad of a lay Kyle was. Sound like a plan?”

Kendall snorts, lifts the bottle of beer to his lips and empties half in one long swallow, nodding his head in agreement.

Really, he has no idea what he’d do without Katelyn.

\--

True to the plan, Kendall’s about as wasted as he can get without blacking out, arms and legs failing to cooperate with him. It takes all Katelyn’s strength to maneuver him out of the bar and into his car, then back out and into his house, body collapsing down onto the sofa when Katelyn pushes him in that direction.

“Alarm,” Kendall says, pointing in the direction he’s almost positive the alarm system is in.

“Way off, buddy,” Katelyn says, laughing, but Kendall hears the beeping of the keypad on the alarm system anyway, grateful he keeps Katelyn up to date on the password because he wouldn’t be able to remember it right now if he were paid to.

“Alright, Ken-doll,” Katelyn says, suddenly in Kendall’s face. “Time to get you to bed.”

“Don’ wanna,” Kendall says, turning his face into the back cushion of the sofa.

“Kendall,” Katelyn says, damn near growling. “Get. Up.”

Kendall grumbles under his breath, pushing himself into an upright position, holding his arms out so Katelyn can help him up.

“Like a damn child,” Katelyn mutters, hefting Kendall up by his biceps. “You gonna break your face if we try climbing the stairs?”

Kendall shakes his head, decides it’s a bad idea when everything starts spinning, says, “No, m’good,” and lets Katelyn lead him to the spiral staircase.

It’s slow going and it feels like it takes fifty years before they finally reach the top, but Katelyn’s there, hand at the small of Kendall’s back to make sure he doesn’t fall or damage himself in any way.

“I tell you how small Kyle’s dick is?” Kendall asks, stopping abruptly.

“You’ve mentioned it a few times,” Katelyn says, snickering. “Now c’mon, let’s get your ass to bed.”

“S’tiny,” Kendall says, nodding his head. “Like the size of my pinky.”

“Oooookay,” Katelyn says, stifling a laugh. “Look, there’s your bed. Go lay down.”

Kendall doesn’t put up a fight, slurs out something that might be goodnight before he faceplants into the mattress, passing out before he can even get comfortable.

\--

Kendall’s hangover the next morning is epic, the sunlight beaming into his room making his head feel like it’s about to explode. Figures that Katelyn would pull open the curtains.

He drags himself into the bathroom, relieves the pressure of his bladder then washes his hands and face, spending almost a full five minutes brushing the taste of dead rodent out of his mouth. A shower sounds amazing to him, but the smell of bacon is quickly making its way upstairs, and Kendall follows it down to the kitchen where Katelyn’s standing in front of the stove, pan full of bacon frying away, scrambled eggs waiting to be made.

“You are a goddess,” Kendall says, dropping down into a chair at the island.

“There’s coffee, too,” Katelyn says, suppressing a laugh.

“You do love me.” Kendall stumbles over to the counter where the coffeemaker is, filling a cup and inhaling the scent before he takes a mouthful, grimacing at the burn on his tongue and throat.

“Yeah, yeah,” Katelyn says, transferring the bacon to a plate. “Next time I’m gonna let you suffer.”

Kendall snorts, regretting it instantly when it makes his head throb. He knows Katelyn would never let him suffer, though. She says it every time, but she’s always there the next morning, coffee and breakfast ready to go the moment Kendall stumbles downstairs, and it’s enough to have Kendall forgiving her for being a terrible person and opening the shades in his room.

“When your hangover’s gone,” Katelyn says, “we do have some offers to go over.”

Kendall only just resists the urge to sigh. Why couldn’t she have mentioned the offers last night when Kendall asked, instead of letting him get stupidly drunk and try to concentrate on them the next day when all he wants to do is sleep?

“You’re fired,” Kendall says, hitting his forehead against the countertop.

“Ha, you wish,” Katelyn says. “Stop that, you’re only going to make your headache worse.”

“Yes, mother,” Kendall snipes, resting his chin in his palm.

“Why do I put up with you?” Katelyn asks, sliding Kendall’s plate of food down the length of the counter.

“Because I pay you a ridiculous amount of money?” Kendall asks.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Katelyn says, sticking out her tongue. “Now eat. We’ve got business to discuss.”

\--

Almost half the day passes before Kendall feels human again. He’s managed to shower and eat again, and Katelyn had taken that time to run home and change and grab the folders she needed.

They’re sitting at Kendall’s dining room table now, a place that often goes unused, folders open and papers spread across the tabletop.

“You’ve got a few offers here,” Katelyn says, “and they’re all pretty much the same thing. There’s one that’s a little different, though.”

“Different how?” Kendall asks, not quite sure he wants to know what different entails. In this business, different could mean just about anything.

“Different as in there seems to be an actual plot, an actual story, a buildup that’s more than those ridiculous porn clichés,” Katelyn explains, pulling an honest to god script out of a folder and handing it to Kendall.

“Sounds interesting,” Kendall says, already intrigued.

“That’s the best one out of all these offers,” Katelyn says, “and the pay is really fricken good, too. You should look it over and let me know.”

“Sure thing,” Kendall says. “You leaving now?”

“Sure am,” Katelyn says, stuffing the rest of the folders into a briefcase. “Got a date with my DVR.”

Kendall snorts and shakes his head, following Katelyn out to the front door. He pulls her in for a hug, kissing the smooth skin of her cheek, a silent ‘thank you’ for everything she does.

“I want a decision by Monday,” she says, pulling back and opening the door, and she’s walking down the driveway before Kendall can even respond.

After locking the door and enabling the alarm system, Kendall ducks back into the dining room to grab the script off the table and heads upstairs to his room, turning the tv on for background noise before he settles into bed, turning on the lamp on his bedside table.

The front page of the script is blank, save for the writing in the middle of the page: When the Lights Come Up, a film by CP Entertainment.

Huh, Kendall thinks, CP Entertainment? In all the years he’s been doing this, and all the titles he has under his belt, he’s never heard of CP Entertainment. The thought that this is CPE’s first adult film and they want Kendall in it fills him with an unexpected warmth, makes him proud and a little terrified that the success of this company is riding on his shoulders, that he could make or break them if this thing doesn’t turn out okay.

The script is the farthest thing from what he’s used to, normally a handful of pages stapled together with the basic premise of the cheesy ass buildup and the positions that’ll be used, but this—this is anything _but_ that. There’s actual dialogue that isn’t a variation of ‘suck my dick’ or ‘fuck my hole’ or ‘god, such a big cock’, different scenes and settings that’ll be used to tell the story, not just different locations for the fucking to occur, and it’s packed with feelings, emotions, all of it culminating into what Kendall is certain is going to be one of the hardest scenes he’s ever done. 

Being able to act like he’s enjoying what he’s doing on film is easy; it’s sex and there are orgasms and what’s not to enjoy about that? Being able to act like he’s so in love with his partner and that this is the best moment of his life? That might be a little harder for Kendall to fake, considering he’s never actually been in love or had sex that felt like it was life-affirming.

All that aside, Kendall knows for certain he wants to do this film, almost reaches for his phone and calls Katelyn to tell her he’s going to take it until he realizes it’s almost midnight and she’s probably conked out on her sofa.

He calls her first thing the next morning, hopped up on excitement and nerves at the prospect of doing something so different from what he’s used to.

“You’re sure about this?” Katelyn asks, sounding more asleep than awake.

“Positive,” Kendall replies, nodding his head even though she can’t see him.

“Alright, I’ll call tomorrow and work out the details. I’ll let you know everything as soon as I do.”

“Thanks, Kate,” Kendall says. “You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Katelyn replies. “Can I go back to sleep now? It’s too fucking early.”

Kendall chuckles, says, “Yeah, sorry,” hanging up when Katelyn starts grumbling about rude ass clients waking her at the ass crack of dawn.

Now that that’s done and taken care of, at least for the time being, Kendall finds he’s able to relax enough to sleep, even through the excited nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

\--

Katelyn shows up on Tuesday with a thick manila envelope in her hand and a smile on her face.

“Everything’s good to go, I’m assuming?” Kendall asks when he lets her in.

“Good as gold,” Katelyn replies, shaking the envelope. “Contract was overnighted; got it right here for you to sign.”

“What’s the pay like?” Kendall asks, even though he knows that if he were being offered half of what he normally makes, he’d still do this film.

“Minimum of 18,” Katelyn says. “They’re offering $1,200 a day, and they’re estimating that it’ll take about three weeks to film—weekends off—and if filming goes past that, they’ll up your pay to $2,000 for every extra day.”

The pay’s remarkably less than what Kendall’s used to getting, but—

“Wait,” Kendall says. “I’ve never even heard of this studio. How can they afford to pay me so much?”

Katelyn levels him with a look that seems to say ‘are you serious?’ and ‘I can’t believe you’re still alive.’ “Kendall,” she says, sighing. “CP Entertainment produces some of the highest rating straight porn out there.”

Oh. Well.

“I’m gay, Katelyn,” Kendall says, pointing out the obvious. “I do gay porn. Where in any of that do you think I’d pay attention to straight porn? Vaginas are gross.”

“Oh, Kendall,” Katelyn says, shaking her head. “What am I going to do with you? You should be a little more aware of the business as a whole, not just what pertains to you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Kendall says. “So, they’re branching out into the gay side of porn now?”

“Looks like it,” Katelyn replies. “You gonna sign these?”

Kendall nods and pulls the papers out of the envelope, reading over them to make sure there’s nothing that’ll come back to bite him in the ass later. When everything checks out, Kendall grabs the pen Katelyn’s holding out to him and scribbles his name everywhere there’s a colored tab.

“Awesome,” Katelyn says, tucking the contract back into the envelope. “Filming starts in a few weeks, and you have a meeting a couple days before to meet your costar and director and all that good stuff.”

A few weeks? Jesus, that’s so far away.

“Yeah, I know,” Katelyn says, shrugging her shoulders. “I guess the director is overseas on vacation or something and they obviously can’t start filming without him, so.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Kendall says. “I’ll find something to do with all my time.”

“ _We_ could take a vacation,” Katelyn says, grinning. “You’ve been promising me one for years.”

“How about after this movie?” Kendall suggests. “Anywhere you wanna go, just name it and we’ll go.”

“I’m holding you to that, Schmidt,” Katelyn says, surprisingly not bringing up how Kendall has been saying that for the last year.

Katelyn leaves pretty soon after that, something about how she has a hair appointment and needs to get over to the post office before it closes falling from her lips as she heads out the front door.

\--

In the weeks leading up to filming, Kendall studies the script harder than he ever remembers studying for anything, so much more to memorize than he’s used to. The script is out of this world, feels like it’s something that should be in an actual movie, not a porno, and he’s so twisted up inside with the fear that he’s going to fuck it all up.

He struggles with the emotions he needs to convey, never quite feels like he’s hitting them the way they’re meant to be portrayed, and it’s frustrating to no end.

The day of the meeting comes faster than Kendall had anticipated, and it feels like a swarm of butterflies has taken up residence in his stomach. He can barely choke back a cup of coffee and a slice of toast, and he hates that he's as nervous as he is. It's like the first day of high school all over again, that worry that he'll screw up, make an idiot out of himself, be labeled the outcast or the weirdo for the next four years, only this time it’s his career, the success of a company, that are riding on his shoulders.

Kendall’s just getting ready to leave when the doorbell rings, and he changes track from his bedroom to the front door, surprised to see Katelyn there.

“You didn’t think you were going alone, did you?” Katelyn asks, eyebrow quirked.

Kendall did, actually, but he breathes a little easier knowing Katelyn will be right there beside him.

She rolls her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Kendall says, double-checking his pockets for his phone, wallet, and keys. “Was gonna run up to my room and grab the address, but since you’re here, guess I won’t need it.”

“I’m not your chauffeur, Kendall,” Katelyn says, and Kendall’s quick to say, “Yeah, well, you are my agent.”

“Not even close to being the same thing, Schmidt,” Katelyn says, then, “the address is all queued up on the GPS in my car.”

Kendall grins. “Just like I thought it would be.”

“Whatever. Let’s go so I can stop for some coffee.”

Well, Kendall thinks, that explains the grouchiness. The somewhat early hour, plus the lack of caffeine, means Katelyn is so far from being in a good mood Kendall’s liable to lose his junk if he doesn’t watch what he says ‘til she’s properly awake and caffeinated.

Katelyn stops at a Starbucks and gets the largest, strongest coffee she can, drinking it down at a pace that has Kendall wincing. How can she do that and not burn her tastebuds off?

The cup is nearly empty before Katelyn even gets them on the 405, heading in the direction of San Fernando Valley, porn capital of the world.

It takes almost 45 minutes, more than twice the time it should take, before they’re finally pulling off the highway and Katelyn’s navigating smoothly through the streets. Kendall’s filmed at more than half the studios they pass, even the smaller, shabbier ones when he was first starting out.

“Here we are,” Katelyn says, pulling into the lot of one of the biggest studios Kendall’s ever seen.

“How have I never noticed this place?” Kendall asks, eyes wide in amazement at the sheer size of it, the large _CP Entertainment_ written in a blocky text on the front.

“Because you’re hopelessly blind and unaware of your surroundings?” Katelyn asks, smiling, her tongue sticking out between her teeth.

“Of course,” Kendall says, voice dripping with sarcasm, “that’s totally it.”

Before Katelyn can reply, they’re being motioned up to the security gate. She gives their information, receiving a temporary parking pass and visitors’ badges, and then they’re being directed to the designated guest parking lot, the security bar lifting to let them through.

The nerves return tenfold as they park, and it’s like no matter how hard Kendall tries to catch his breath or slow his heart, they’re both racing away.

“It’s just like any other film you’ve done,” Katelyn says, all traces of joking and teasing gone.

“Yeah, I know,” Kendall says, even though he knows this is unlike any other production he’s ever seen or done. He’s pretty sure Katelyn knows that, too, but he’s grateful for the way she’s trying to make it seem less than it is so as not to freak him out even more.

The interior of the main building is all white marble walls, smooth, gleaming hardwood floors, plush, expensive leather sofas in the lobby. Kendall immediately feels out of place in his beat up tennis shoes, faded and torn jeans, and a t-shirt that has seen better days. He's pretty sure he should be dressed up, pressed slacks and shiny shoes and a button-down, similar to the way Katelyn is wearing a smart, tasteful dress, her no-nonsense heels complementing it perfectly.

"You look fine," Katelyn says, and Kendall hates that, hates the way she seems to be able to pick whatever he's thinking right out of his head.

"I guess," Kendall says, shrugging.

"It doesn't matter what you're wearing," Katelyn states. "They've seen your work, the contracts are signed, you've got nothing to worry about."

Katelyn walks up to the reception desk, heels clacking with every step, and Kendall follows behind her, offering a polite smile to Erin—according to the nameplate in front of her.

"Mr. Pena and Mr. Maslow will be with you shortly," Erin says, pleasantly cheerful. "You can take a seat while you wait."

"Thank you," Katelyn says, and Kendall heads for the closest leather sofa before he realizes Katelyn's heels aren’t clicking behind him.

He turns, surprised to find her still at the desk, arms crossed under his chest, emphasizing the swell of her breasts, flirty little smile teasing the edges of her lips. Oh. Well, then.

Kendall pulls his phone out of his pocket, fiddling with it to keep his hands busy. His email inboxes are empty, his Facebook newsfeed boring, and his Twitter only exacerbates his nerves. Luckily, Katelyn approaches before he can read further, letting him know they're ready.

He stands and tucks his phone back into his pocket, making a mental note to rib Katelyn about Erin later, then approaches the two males standing near the reception desk, eyes immediately drawn to the smaller of the two.

"Hello," he says, "I'm Carlos Pena, director and producer, and this is James Maslow, writer and assistant director."

"Hi," Kendall says, wipes his sweaty palm off on the side of his jeans, grip firm as he shakes Carlos' then James' hand. "I'm Kendall Schmidt, even though you probably already knew that, and this is Katelyn Tarver, agent, best friend, general pain in my—"

"It's good to meet you two," Katelyn says, effectively cutting Kendall off.

"James will show you to the conference room while I wait for the other guy to show up," Carlos says, and James takes over, turning down a hall that leads them to a large room, a big oak table in the center, chairs that look expensively comfortable arranged around it, and a large flat screen tv mounted to one wall. There's coffee and bottles of water provided, and a binder placed in front of six of the seats.

“You can go ahead and pick a seat,” James says, taking the one off to the side of the head of the table, what Kendall’s assuming is Carlos’ seat.

Katelyn chooses their seats, the two that are on the side opposite from where James is sitting, setting her purse off to the side. Kendall sits down beside her, folding his hands on top of the binder, resisting the urge to bite off all his fingernails, a bad habit he kicked years ago.

He was so nervous and worried about not memorizing his lines, about screwing up this film, that he hadn’t taken even a moment to ponder who his costar might be, and he didn’t even think to ask Katelyn about it, information she possibly knew.

Why wouldn’t she tell him something so vitally important, though?

It’s a thought that doesn’t sit well with Kendall, and for all the shit he and Katelyn give each other, he knows she wouldn’t hold something back like that, so the information must not have been supplied to her. Kendall’s always known who his costars were going to be before filming commenced, and it’s a little odd that apparently that’s not how this studio runs things.

“Sorry for the hold up,” Carlos says, hustling in through the door, a guy maybe a few inches taller than him and a girl with dark brown hair following behind. “This is Logan Henderson, your costar, and Victoria Justice, his manager. Logan, this is Kendall Schmidt and his agent, Katelyn Tarver.”

Introductions and handshakes are made around the table, and then it’s time to get down to business.

“The binders in front of you,” James says, “contain the script. A few things have been rewritten, some parts changed and others taken out. There’s also a production schedule in there, which includes start times and what scenes we’ll be filming.”

Rewrites, seriously? Kendall barely resists the urge to groan. He’s been beating his brains out the last few weeks trying to have everything perfectly memorized, only for a huge wrench to be thrown into it. It’s not like his nerves were fraying enough or anything, let’s go ahead and add script rewrites and a costar he’s never heard of. Totally not a big deal or anything.

“That’s not going to be a problem, is it, guys?” Carlos asks, a question Kendall’s so often heard asked in a voice dripping with disdain, genuinely interested and concerned.

_Yes_ , Kendall wants to say, but he shakes his head, pastes on a smile, and sees Logan doing the same. It’s a problem, yeah, but he’s a goddamn professional and he’s not going to kick up a fuss about it.

“Either way, because of the unexpected rewrites, production won’t start until next Monday. That should hopefully give you two enough time to familiarize yourselves with the new material, and, if you need it, the few days resting period required after waxing,” James explains.

With all this time they keep being given, Kendall doubts this film is ever actually going to happen.

“Any questions?” James asks, closing his binder.

Not a peep.

“Okay, then. We’ll see you guys Monday,” James says, rising from his seat. “Erin, the receptionist, will show you guys around and take you to security to get your badges and parking passes.”

Kendall immediately turns to Katelyn, smirking, eyebrows raises, fighting back a laugh when Katelyn’s cheeks flush pink.

James and Carlos quickly disappear, and Kendall can’t help but think that this meeting was a waste of time. It all could’ve been done over the phone or something, and all they would’ve had to drive in for was to get their security clearance and pick up their parking passes.

Well, okay, that’s not completely true. Kendall’s glad the meeting did happen because he finally got to know who his costar is going to be—not that it was something he was overly concerned with until it was brought up.

Still, though, the meeting felt off, unsettling, the way James was the one to run the show. It’s something that’s never happened in Kendall’s experience, the director usually right there at the helm, barking orders left and right, even in the days before production.

The director. Kendall can’t help but be intrigued by Carlos, can’t help wondering how Carlos is a director and owner of such a large studio when he doesn’t look much older than Kendall himself. His looks, too, have Kendall already interested, and he has to chastise and remind himself that he doesn’t do that, that he doesn’t and never will date someone else in the industry.

Still, though, Kendall was expecting someone older, fatter, creepier looking, and Carlos is anything but that. He’s all smooth caramel skin, arms noticeably muscular beneath the clinging fabric of his shirt, thighs thick and strong in the dark wash jeans he’s wearing, and a pair of glasses with thin, black frames that highlight the deep chocolate color of his eyes.

Yeah, okay, Kendall’s attracted, whatever. Doesn’t mean he’s going to do anything about it.

Erin appears with a bright and sunny greeting, gesturing for everyone to follow her, pulling Kendall out of his musings.

Katelyn’s standing already, purse slung over her shoulder, apples of her cheeks even pinker under the layer of blush she’s wearing.

“You’re so cute,” Kendall says quietly, chuckling.

“Oh, be quiet,” Katelyn says, entire face flushing.

Kendall grabs his and Katelyn’s binders, tucking them under his arm as he follows everyone else out into the hall. Erin’s got that same sunny smile pasted on her face, and Kendall can’t help but wonder if her cheeks ever get sore from the near-constant smiling.

“This is obviously the main building,” Erin says, “where all the meetings are held, and all the boring business is taken care of.” She leads them down another hall, hardwood floor giving way to carpet, a large room up ahead with floor to ceiling glass walls, **Security** written in the center of the door.

“I figured we’d get the badges and passes out of the way before I take you to see the rest of the lot,” Erin explains, leading them into the room. She greets the guy, Stephen—ID badge clipped to the front of his shirt—explaining that they’re here for the new production and need all the boring security stuff done.

It really is a boring task, Kendall realizes, that consists of pretty much standing around and waiting while each of them takes their turn having their photo taken, their badges put together and printed, along with their parking passes.

It’s awkward, too, standing around in silence with his costar, feeling like he should be trying to strike up some kind of conversation instead of sneaking glances every now and again.

Objectively speaking, Logan’s plenty attractive, brown hair gelled up into spikes, dimples carved deep into his cheeks when he smiles, lips plush and pale pink, body thin and fit, not overly muscled, a good handful of inches shorter than Kendall. There’s no real attraction, however, and Kendall’s not sure if or how that’s going to translate on screen.

Almost a half hour later, they’ve all been given badges and parking passes, and Erin claps her hands and escorts them down out of the room and down a long hall, carpet floor turning to concrete, big, empty spaces surrounding them that are eventually filled with lighting and camera equipment the further down they walk.

“This hallway connects the main building to the filming studios,” Erin explains, walking backwards while she talks.

Kendall suppresses a snort when he realizes how similar this feels to when he was in elementary school and they took a field trip to a museum.

“I know, I know,” Erin says, “this is all incredibly boring, but I’ve gotta do what the bossman says.”

That draws a short chuckle out of all of them, and Erin continues on, showing them where the dressing rooms are, the room where make-up is done, then finally the filming studio itself, a huge room that takes up half of the lot, partitioned into different areas that the script calls for.

Each section has a letter and number on the floor in front of it, and Erin says, “If you look in your binder on the production sheet, the scene being filmed corresponds to what’s written on the floor. It really isn’t all that important for you to remember, though, since whichever area you’re using to film will have all the cameras and everything set up in it.”

There’s nothing left for Erin to show them after that, and Kendall breathes a sigh of relief at finally being able to leave.

“Wait here,” Katelyn says immediately after Erin tells them they’re free to go.

“But,” is all Kendall gets out before Katelyn’s gone, jogging as much as she can in her heels to catch up to where Erin’s walking away, more than likely heading back to her position at the reception desk.

“So, hey.” Kendall turns to find Logan standing there, Victoria hovering just behind him.

“Hey,” Kendall says, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

“I uh—I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something, go out and have a few beers, get to know each other and crap before we start filming?” Logan says, the rising of his voice phrasing it into a question instead.

Kendall takes longer than he really should to think it over, but finally says, “Sure, why not,” and he and Logan exchange numbers before Logan and Victoria take off, disappearing out the door Erin said would take them out to the parking lot.

Kendall looks around the room, lining up each area with what he remembers from the script, growing bored and restless with every minute Katelyn’s away.

She finally appears a few minutes later, satisfied smile on her face.

“What’s that look for?” Kendall asks, heading for the exit.

“Got her number,” Katelyn says proudly.

“That’s awesome, Kate,” Kendall says, tugging Katelyn against his side. It’s been so long since Katelyn’s dated anyone, let alone shown anything resembling an interest, and he hopes this works out for her; she deserves to find someone to be happy with.

“Yeah,” Katelyn says softly, blushing. “We’re going out for coffee later this week. Just have to call her and figure out a time that will work for both of us.”

“Good for you, Kate,” Kendall says, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to the top of Katelyn’s head.

“You’ll find someone, Kendall,” Katelyn says, and Kendall sighs in response. He wasn’t even thinking about that, really. There’s so many other things to worry about, and Kendall’s lack of a relationship isn’t one of them. 

“Sure,” Kendall says, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal right now,” he continues, “I just want to take some time for myself, y’know? There’s filming to worry about, and besides, after the last three relationship failures, I’m totally fine on my own for awhile.”

Katelyn looks like she wants to protest, and Kendall can almost see the gears in her head spinning and turning as she tries to figure out exactly what she wants to say.  
"Seriously, Kate, I'm good on my own," he says, smiling, and breathes out in relief when Katelyn agrees, reluctant as it is.

Conversation tapers off as they finish the walk to the car, until they're back on the highway, headed to Kendall's house.

"So, Erin," Kendall says, "she's pretty cute."

Katelyn hums in agreement, hands squeezing tighter around the steering wheel

"You think you have a shot at a lasting relationship with her?" Kendall asks.

"I dunno," Katelyn says. "Maybe. We'll see how the coffee date goes first before I make any kind of guesses pertaining to that."

She reaches over and turns up the volume on the radio, effectively ending the conversation. Katelyn looks genuinely worried about how things are going to go with Erin, and Kendall feels a little bad about the teasing. He can't even remember the last time Katelyn had an actual relationship that lasted longer than one night, and he really hopes Katelyn's worry is for nothing.

"You sticking around?" Kendall asks when Katelyn pulls into the driveway of his house.

"Nah," Katelyn says, shaking her head. "My brother wanted to get lunch whenever the meeting finished, so. Besides, you've got work to do, mister."

"God, I know. I don't know why I even agreed to this film. It's a fucking clusterfuck of a production," Kendall grouses as he scrubs a hand through his hair.

"Them’s the breaks, kiddo," Katelyn says, smirking. When Kendall doesn't reply and that bitchy, dissatisfied look fully settles on his face, she continues and says, "Look, just—at least give it a shot? This is the first time their studio is doing gay porn. It's not all going to run as easily and smoothly as every other job you've had."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Kendall grumbles.

"Get outta my car, you big baby," Katelyn says, playfully pushing at Kendall's shoulder.

"I'm going, I'm going," Kendall replies, double-checking that his badge and pass are in his binder. "Dinner later this week?"

"I'll call and let you know."

Kendall exits the car, standing at the front of it and waving as Katelyn reverses out of the driveway, music blaring to life as she speeds away.

Though his plans were set on relearning the script, Kendall finds that his head’s not really in it, and he wanders around his house aimlessly, stopping only to feed his pets before he goes outside to the backyard, checking in on the fenced off patch of yard where his vegetable garden is.

There’s no work to be done on it, everything growing perfectly, and the flowerbed looks just as gorgeous as it always does, no unsightly weeds anywhere to be found.

Kendall sighs, scrubs a hand over his face and heads back into the house, flopping down on the sofa in the living room and mindlessly flipping through the channels on tv, hoping to find something that catches his interest.

He settles on a movie he’s seen half a dozen times, tossing the remote onto the coffee table before he folds his hands over his stomach, letting the sound wash over him as he attempts to clear his mind of everything the day brought.

Of course, because his life really seems to be sucking today, he finds it’s damn near impossible to turn his brain off. It’s stuck on an endless loop of the new material he has to learn, how it’s all going to play out with Logan, his—no, no, not going there, not going there at all so shut the fuck up, brain—, Katelyn and her tentative relationship with Erin and how, despite his insistence, Kendall wants something like that, wants someone who can accept every part of who he is and what he does and still want to be with him and not expect things Kendall can’t or won’t give, who won’t expect him to be _on_ all the time.

He’s so tired of looking and trying, though, when the last three relationships he had turned out to be huge fucking messes. He knows he should’ve stopped after the second relationship failed, but some part of him believed his luck would change; third time’s the charm after all, right? Wrong. So fucking wrong. If anything, Kyle was an even bigger dick than the two before him, pushing and pleading and begging no matter how many times Kendall refused, told him no, that what Kyle wanted weren’t things he actually did, only for Kyle to spin it back and turn into an asshole, spouting off shit about how of course Kendall would only do things like that when he was being paid for it “like a fucking whore.”

Some foolish part of Kendall thought that maybe if he stuck it out, Kyle would change, would finally understand, but that understanding never came and Kendall had no choice but to kick Kyle to the curb. An idiot is what he was, really, thinking Kyle would ever change, considering he was like that from the get-go.

Seeing how excited and nervous and jittery Katelyn was over Erin really brought it home for Kendall how long it’s been since he’s felt something like that, since he didn’t actually dread the idea of being with someone, and not for the first time Kendall wishes he could wind the clock back 5 years to before he ever got into this business, to when his parents still talked to him, when relationships were fresh and new and exciting and something he didn’t dread being in because of bullshit expectations that are put on him.

Kendall sighs and curses himself for ever getting into the adult film industry. He sits up and turns off the TV, figuring he might as well get to work since it’s probably going to be the only thing that’ll occupy his mind.

He pulls out his phone and dials the number to schedule his waxing, deciding he might as well get that out of the way, hanging up a few minutes later with an appointment for 10:00 tomorrow morning.

The rumbling of his stomach reminds Kendall that he’s yet to eat lunch, and after grabbing his binder, he heads into the kitchen and fixes himself a sandwich, sitting at the counter and reading over the rewrites while he eats.

He has to admit, even though learning the rewrites is going to be a pain in the ass, it makes the story more cohesive, gives it that extra little oomph Kendall didn’t even realize was missing.

What he loves about how it’s written is the fact that it doesn’t have any of that terribly cheesy porn dialogue, nothing ridiculous and over-the-top that makes him want to cringe and hide his face like most films he’s done. Instead, the dialogue is tasteful—or as tasteful as dialogue in a porno can be—, words layered with emotion and heat that has faint twinges of arousal swirling low in his belly.

Yeah, Kendall thinks, this’ll definitely work.

His phone buzzes on the countertop, skittering across the surface until he grabs it, surprised to see Logan’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hello?”

"Uh, hey, Kendall? This is Logan, uh, Henderson?" Logan sounds so nervous, and Kendall has to remind himself that this is probably Logan's first film; the nerves are to be expected.  
"Hey, yeah, what's up, man?" Kendall asks, soft and easy-going, hoping it'll calm some of Logan's nerves.

There's silence for a minute and Kendall thinks Logan hung up, but a moment later, Logan's voice comes back over the line, a little calmer now. "I uh--I was wondering if you were busy tonight?"

Kendall debates lying, saying yeah, he is, that he has things to do and places to be, but what good would it do? If filming starts in a week, that only gives him so much time to get to know Logan unless he wants their interactions on-screen to be awkward and uncomfortable. If this film is going to take as long as they're saying it will, it's better to get to know who he'll be working with now instead of trying to do it while overcoming the awkwardness of being intimate on film. It's not a problem Kendall's ever had before, but then again, he's never worked with the same person for longer than a day, so it wasn't necessarily something he had to worry about. That's all different this time around.

"Nah," Kendall says, "tonight's good. What'd you have in mind?"

Logan suggests a bar, but then says he doesn't know of any, that he only just recently moved to LA, and Kendall assures him that it's fine, he knows of a place, and rattles off the address of the bar he and Katelyn went to a few weeks back.

"Okay, awesome," Logan says. "So I'll meet you there at 7?"

"Yeah, man, 7's good," Kendall says, and hangs up after a round of "see ya."

He cleans up the small mess he made and grabs his binder, phone tucked into his pocket. He's got a little less than 5 hours to kill and has no idea what to do with them.

He returns to the living room and flops down on the sofa, setting his binder down on the coffee table and turning the tv back on. There still isn't anything on that's worth watching, but Kendall changes it to an episode of Maury, losing himself in the ridiculousness and embarrassment of other people's lives. 

\--

Logan's already got a table secured by the time Kendall makes his way into the bar, two bottles of beer perspiring on the tabletop.

"Hey," Kendall says as he takes a seat, reaching for the beer Logan pushes his way, feeling all kinds of awkward.

"Hey," Logan replies, looking around, before his gaze finally settles on Kendall. "This is a nice place."

Nice isn't exactly the word Kendall would use to describe this little hole in the wall bar, but he's guessing Logan means more the atmosphere than the look of it.

"Yeah," Kendall says, "it's great. Katelyn and I stumbled across it a few years back, and it's pretty much the only place we come to when we go out."

"I take it you're not big on the club scene?" Logan asks around the rim of his bottle.

"Nah, not really. When we go out, it's usually just to relax or something. Katelyn and I have never really been into the clubbing thing," Kendall explains, shrugging a shoulder.

Logan's brows are furrowed, lips turned down, and he asks, "Are you and Katelyn...?"

Kendall can't contain the absolutely ridiculous laugh that comes out of him, loud and booming until he manages to get control of himself. "God, no," he says, shaking his head. "Definitely 100% gay, and Katelyn--Katelyn is Katelyn. She dates whoever seems to grab her attention."

"Oh, I just--never mind," Logan says, embarrassed flush creeping up his cheeks.

"We've known each other forever," Kendall says. "She's kind of like the sister I never had. She's the first person I came out to when I was 15, and one of the only people who didn't turn their back on me when I told them I was going into the porn business."

"You're lucky to have her," Logan says softly.

"I am," Kendall agrees, nodding his head. He quickly signals the waitress for another round of beers then asks, "What about you? You're new, right?"

"Yeah," Logan says, hands flat on the tabletop. "I did the whole college thing, have a bright, shiny diploma, but it's pretty much useless. I literally cannot find anything in my field of work that pays well enough for me to work on paying off my student loans and live off of, so my friend mentioned the studio she worked at was hiring for a new genre of film and said she'd put in a good word for me, and here we are."

"Did she happen to mention it was an adult film?" Kendall asks.

Logan snorts out a laugh and shakes his head. "Nope. Didn't know what it was 'til I met Carlos and James a couple weeks ago, and by then it was too late to back out, something about them really liking my look and how it would work perfectly for what was written."

"You are gay, though, right? Like, you won't be completely out of your element?"

"Oh, yeah," Logan says, "definitely gay. That's probably why she brought it up, but didn't say what it was about."

"Oh, okay, that's good," Kendall says, blowing out a slow, relieved breath. He's never had to dip his toes in or work with someone who was only doing the gay-for-pay thing, and he definitely doesn't want to start now.

"Right. So, when I find out what it is, I call Erin--she's the receptionist and did the tour--and almost have a panic attack. Of all the things she could've volunteered me for, it had to be porn. Don't get me wrong, the pay is awesome and I enjoy watching it, it's just not something I'd ever seen myself doing, and Erin knows I'm about the farthest thing from an exhibitionist. She told me if I backed out, she'd do very bad things to a certain appendage I really happen to love, so."

"Erin the receptionist, huh?" Kendall asks, smirking. "Looks like her and Katelyn are gonna get along just fine."

"I'm sorry?" Logan says, head tilted to the side.

"I think they have a coffee date or something later this week," Kendall says. "Katelyn wasn't sure when they'd be able to meet, something about Erin's schedule being super busy."

"Really?" Logan asks, and Kendall's really not liking the skeptical tone of his voice.

"Something wrong?" Kendall asks, tendrils of worry and doubt making the beer want to make a reappearance.

"No, no," Logan says quickly, shaking his head. "Guess I didn't realize Erin was into girls."

"Wait," Kendall says, swallowing roughly. "She's never?"

"Not in the years I've known her, no," Logan says, smiling sadly.

"Fuck," Kendall says, blowing out a heavy breath.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Logan says, trying to be calming. "Maybe she just hadn't found anyone she was interested in or didn't want it to interfere with her schoolwork?"

"That doesn't explain why she wouldn't have at least told you, though," Kendall points out, voice tight.

"Yeah, I dunno," Logan replies, shaking his head. "We'll just have to see how it goes."

"Can you talk to her, tell her that if she's not serious about it to ease off? Katelyn's already smitten with her and I'd rather she not get in too deep if it's not gonna be something Erin's capable of returning."

"Yeah, I can do that," Logan says, nodding. "Don't know how well she'll listen, but if it'll save Katelyn the hurt, it's worth a shot. It's never fun falling for a straight person."

"Thanks, man," Kendall says, grateful.

"Yeah, not a problem," Logan says, smiling. "I'm gonna go grab those beers. Seems the waitress forgot about us."

Kendall feels queasy, doesn't want another beer, wants to take Katelyn and run, spare her from the hurt she's inevitably going to encounter, but he can't, knows that he can't, and he hates it, hates that it's more than likely Katelyn's going to have her heart broken.

He hopes he's wrong, hopes Logan's wrong, that it'll work out for them, but the pessimistic part of himself won't let him believe it'll be okay.

"Here you go," Logan says, reappearing, setting the bottles down on the table.

"Thanks," Kendall says, and takes a large swallow, relishing in the coldness of it as it slides down his throat.

Conversation turns to more lighthearted topics, superficial things, like favorite movies and music and hobbies, and though Kendall's thoughts are mostly focused on Katelyn and Erin, he can't deny that he's having a good time, that Logan really is awesome and that he thinks they'll have no problem pulling off the chemistry that's needed onscreen. Yeah, there's no real romantic chemistry between them, but Logan's good looking, deep dimples that Kendall can barely resist reaching out and poking his finger into, and a barely there accent that slips out the more he drinks. People are going to fall all over him, Kendall's certain of that.

Kendall calls it quits after a few hours and a good handful of beers later, remembering he has that waxing appointment early the next morning.

"Do you prefer waxed?" Logan asks, eyes hooded and lazy with alcohol.

"Uh, yeah," Kendall replies, lifting a shoulder. "Smoother's better."

Logan hmm's, finishing the last of his beer before he rises, Kendall reaching out to steady him.

"Should probably catch a cab," Kendall says, pulling out his wallet when he's sure Logan can stand on his own. He pulls out a handful of bills, counts out what he thinks will cover their tab, and a bit extra in case he's off, and tucks it under an empty beer bottle, shoving his wallet back into his jeans. "C'mon," he says, steering Logan out the door to the street.

They wait what feels like hours before a cab finally drives past, and Kendall wastes no time flagging it down, shuffling Logan into the backseat. "I'll see you later, man," he says. "Take care."

He shuts the door and then the cab is gone, disappearing down the street. Kendall heads to where he parked his car, making sure it's locked before he heads off in the direction of his house, using the walk to sober himself up a little.

So, that wasn't anywhere near as bad as he thought it would be. He had a really good time and wouldn't mind hanging out with Logan again, a fact he finds surprising. For the last few years, he's been more than fine with it just being him and Katelyn, and with the exception of his short-lived pathetic excuses of relationships, it's how he prefers it. Or he thought he did.

Now, though, he’s realizing how solitary of a life he lives outside of Katelyn, and it’s not a realization he’s enjoying.

His house finally comes into view and Kendall breathes a sigh of relief, ready to crawl into bed. Today was a long, eventful day, and Kendall’s exhausted, and it doesn’t help that the beers he had are making him even sleepier.

He immediately heads to the bathroom after enabling the security system, relieving the fullness of his bladder. He brushes his teeth and pops some aspirin, warding off any hangover he may have in the morning, downing them with a full glass of water.

He drags himself to his bedroom, stripping down to his boxers, and sets the alarm on his phone, not thrilled in the least about having to wake up so early, especially after a night of drinking.

Kendall sighs and crawls into bed, closing his eyes, but sleep seems to be the last thing his body wants to do. His thoughts are too loud, churning around in his head, a looping cycle of Logan’s confusion about Erin and what that means for Katelyn. He hates that it’s so messy, so complicated, and he wishes that Logan hadn’t said anything, that he didn’t have to worry even more about Katelyn getting hurt.

Kendall tosses and turns until he finally falls into a fitful sleep.

\--

The rest of the week seems to drag, which Kendall hates and is grateful for in equal measures. It gives him the time to relearn his lines, but also gives him downtime he’s not quite sure what to do with.

He’s talked to Logan a few times over the last couple days, once about Katelyn and Erin and how Erin assured him that she knew what she was doing, the other times to discuss the film and how it’ll work.

As much pressure as Kendall’s feeling, he knows Logan has to be feeling it tenfold. It’s his first adult film and Kendall remembers all too clearly how the nerves and anxiety rush in and take up residence. A part of him feels bad that this is Logan’s first film, that something so big and huge is hinging on their performance together when Logan’s never done anything like this in front of the camera.

Starting out is rough, not being able to really pick and choose what films you want to take part in, having to be more open to things you may not like, all to climb up the ladder to where you’ll be able to say no, to get picky and decline films you don’t want to do, but it all builds experience, lets you know what’s expected and what to do, and Logan doesn’t have that, is pretty much flying blind here, and it sucks so much more than Kendall can even fathom.

It’s understandable that Logan looks like he’s moments away from upchucking everything he’s ever eaten when Kendall sees him Monday morning, standing outside the doors to the studio, binder tucked under his arm.

“Ready to rock this shit?” Kendall asks, forgoing an actual greeting.

Logan smiles—or tries to, anyway—but it comes out as a grimace, face scrunched like he’s thinking about bolting.

“It won’t be so bad,” Kendall says, lowering his voice. “The first couple shots aren’t anything risqué, just dialogue and acting like this were any other movie.”

“Risqué? Really?” Logan asks, snorting out a laugh.

“Got you to laugh, didn’t it?” Kendall responds, smirking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Logan says, shaking his head. “Let’s get this thing started before I change my mind.”

Kendall lets Logan lead them in through the doors, down the hall to the dressing rooms, where who Kendall’s assuming is the person in charge of wardrobe is standing, waiting for their arrival.

“Hey, there,” she says, bright and cheerful. “I’m Alice, and it looks like I’ll be in charge of dressing you.”

Alice is a small, petite thing, eyes the bluest blue Kendall’s ever seen, hair a chocolate brown that hangs in loose curls around her face. Her lips are painted red, the apples of her cheeks pink, the hollows of them dusted in a shimmery blush that highlights the fragility of her bone structure. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt that accentuates the curve of her hips, a silk light pink tank top under a black business jacket, and a pair of black heels that make Kendall’s feet ache in sympathy.

“Hey, I’m Kendall,” he says, gripping her hand loosely as he shakes it.

Logan repeats the action as he introduces himself, and then Alice is getting right down to business, ushering them into their respective dressing rooms.

“Your clothing is arranged by scene, but if there’s something that doesn’t work or doesn’t fit right, it’ll be swapped out and replaced. If you have any questions or concerns, just let me know,” she says, then she’s disappearing, heels clicking as she goes.

Kendall shares a look with Logan, eyebrows raised as high as they'll go.

"Okay, then," Logan says, drawing out the first word.

Kendall nods his agreement, then shakes his head. "Guess we better get ready," he says, and ducks inside his dressing room, closing the door behind him.

It hits him while he’s looking over the clothing rack how utterly different this is from every other film he’s done. Yeah, the actual script was a big clue to the differences, but having actual wardrobe changes really drives it home.

The clothes are nothing like he’s used to wearing onscreen, no leather or mesh or clothes he can barely breathe in. Instead, it’s all similar to what’s in his closet at home: jeans in various shades of washes, plain t-shirts in an array of different colors, sweaters and hoodies and button-downs in different colors and styles.

He quickly changes into the outfit at the front of the clothing rack, surprised at how perfectly it all fits. The jeans are a dark wash, a blue so dark they’re almost black, a little tighter than he’s used to, but they highlight the slim length of his legs in a way that makes them seem more attractive. His shirt is a plain form-fitting white v-neck, baring the hollow of his throat and the lines of his collarbones.

The only thing that’s really different from his own wardrobe are the shoes. Instead of his worn down, beaten up Vans, there are black leather motorcycle boots.

By the time he puts them on and leaves his dressing room, Logan’s already waiting outside, and the clothes they’ve picked out for him are even better than what Kendall’s wearing. His jeans are actually black, skin tight and showing off a surprising amount of muscle in his thighs, a black leather belt threaded through the belt loops of his jeans, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up neatly to his elbows, and a skinny black tie knotted loosely around his neck.

It’s—it’s really fucking attractive, is what it is.

“You look good,” Kendall says, eyes tracing a continuous path up and down Logan’s body.

Logan’s face flushes pink, a shy smile creeping across his lips. “Thanks,” he says softly, “you do, too.”

Kendall clears his throat, pulling his eyes away from Logan. “Next stop, make-up.” He leads Logan down the hall to where Erin showed them the hair and make-up area is, and the make-up artists are already there waiting, leaning against their respective counters.

It’s another quick greeting before they’re being shoved into their seats, skin being airbrushed to perfection, different shades being added to the dips and hollows to give them dimension on camera. Fifty different products are added to their hair to give it a lasting hold, and finally they’re being shooed away to the set.

“Ready?” Kendall asks, eyes flicking to the side to assess Logan’s expression.

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” Logan says, shrugging.

Carlos and James are waiting on set when they get there, deep in conversation. Those same black frames are perched on Carlos’ nose, and the way his face is scrunched up in thought makes him simultaneously adorable and unbelievably gorgeous.

‘Stop it,’ he tells himself, shaking his head. ‘Nothing good can come from it. Haven’t you learned your lesson?’

James finally looks up, smiles, asks, “How’s it going, guys?”

Logan blushes a hilarious shade of red and mutters something under his breath that Kendall can’t quite make out, then turns away and pretends to be busy looking over the set.

‘Huh,’ Kendall thinks, pondering Logan’s reaction.

“Oh, y’know, ready to get this thing going,” Kendall says, turning his attention back to James’ question.

“Awesome,” James says, smile widening. “Us, too.”

Carlos barely looks up from his clipboard when he asks if they’re ready, disappearing before either of them can even answer.

“Guess you guys better go get in your places,” James says, clapping each of them on their shoulder before he follows after Carlos.

“Let’s rock this thing,” Kendall says, and pulls Logan into a hug that surprises Logan, and himself. Logan hesitantly returns the embrace, pulling apart after a few seconds, and then they’re both heading in the direction of where they need to be.

\--

The first half of the morning is surprisingly refreshing. It’s more challenging than anything else Kendall’s done thus far, but he relishes in that difficulty, in accomplishing something so different from what he’s used to. There were scenes they had to film over and over, missed lines, missed cues, lighting glitches, audio glitches, and they’re barely done with the first scene.

It was a surprise when Carlos called a break for lunch, muttering as he walked away, script rolled up in his hand, but Kendall was more than ready for a break, his brain already feeling overtaxed at the constant repetitiveness of the same lines.

“If every scene is going to be like this,” Logan says, walking beside Kendall, “we’re going to be filming this thing for a year.”

Kendall snorts out a laugh and nods his head, says, “Dude, tell me about it. This is crazy.”

“This is their first gay film, though, right?” Logan says. “It makes sense that they want it as perfect as they can get it, but I didn’t think it’d require a million different takes of one little scene.”

“And that’s not even counting the retakes for the different camera angles they need,” Kendall adds. “No matter, really,” he continues, “the farther we go past the initial three weeks of filming, the more I get paid.”

“Amen, brother,” Logan says, laughing.

They make their way over to where the food is, surprised at how much there is. There are fresh fruits and vegetables, different rice sides and pastas, chicken and ham and turkey and burgers.

“Wow,” Kendall says, picking up a styrofoam container and a plastic fork.

“This is _a lot_ of food,” Logan says, eyes wide in surprise. “I don’t even think I have this much food in my entire kitchen.”

They each take turns filling their containers, standing off to the side as they eat. The extras and members of the crew take their turns in the line, and by the time everyone’s served, there’s barely anything left.

They have an hour for lunch, but it barely takes them a quarter of that to finish their food, and they take the rest of the time to go over their lines for the scene, but they already know them so well it seems almost pointless.

It’s a relief when James walks over, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with his sunglasses still hanging from the neckline, and asks how they’re doing so far.

“It’s a lot, y’know,” Kendall says, rolling and unrolling his script. “It’s a million miles away from what I’m used to, and it’s a lot more work than the usual show up, recite some corny ass dialogue, then get right to the fucking. There’s actual build-up and emotion to this, and yeah, it’s tough, but I think this’ll turn out way better than any of us are predicting.”

“That’s plenty understandable,” James says, nodding his head slightly. “If you, either of you, feel like we’re pushing you too hard, just speak up and we’ll let you take a short break to recoup.”

“Thanks, man,” Kendall says, wondering for a moment if that’s something Carlos will actually let fly, if it’s something James just thought he’d toss out there without any kind of approval. Regardless, he doubts he’ll ever ask for a break unless it’s being given to them. He doesn’t want to be that guy, the one who runs or ducks for cover when things aren’t as easy as he wants them to be. He’s never been that guy, so why would he start now?

“What about you, Logan?” James asks. “This is the first film you’ve ever done, right?”

“Yeah,” Logan says softly, biting at the inside of his lip. “It’s y’know, not so bad right now. Ask me when we get to the other stuff.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, man. I’m sure Kendall will take good care of you,” James replies, eyes playful and teasing.

Kendall suddenly feels like an unwelcomed third wheel, awkward and out of place as he looks back and forth between Logan and James.

“Right, okay,” James says quickly. “I should uh—I should go see where Carlos is, get ready to get back to filming and all that fun stuff. Good luck with the rest of the day, guys.”

And then James is gone, ducking through the crowd of extras and crew members, quickly lost in the sea of bodies.

“That was weird,” Kendall says, brows furrowed.

Logan hmm’s, but doesn’t agree or disagree. “He seems nice,” he says instead, and Kendall finds himself nodding his head in agreement.

“Yeah,” Kendall says, “he seems like a pretty okay dude.”

“Hey, did you see any breath mints on that lunch table?” Logan asks, confusing Kendall with the change of subject.

“Um, I don’t know,” he says. “Why?”

“If I’m gonna be all up in your face, I don’t want to have bad breath, and I don’t really want your bad breath all up in my face, either, no offense,” Logan explains.

“Didn’t even think of that,” Kendall says with a laugh. “If there aren’t any on the table, I’m sure James or someone has some.”

“I’ll go check the table if you go ask James?” Logan suggests, already walking off before Kendall can even answer.

Kendall shakes his head, watches Logan make his way back to the food table, a quick shake of his head telling Kendall that no, there aren’t any. Kendall heaves out a sigh and heads off in the direction James went, hoping he can track him down before they have to get back to filming.

It proves easier than he thought it would be, and he finds James—and Carlos—sitting in their seats by the camera, heads bent low as they discuss something.

“Uh, hey,” Kendall says, wincing internally when he sees the look Carlos gives him. Jesus, they haven’t even been working all that long. What the hell could he have done to garner such an apparent dislike already?

“Hey, Kendall, what’d you need?” James asks.

“Uh, right, um, breath mints? Or gum, even,” Kendall says, “either’ll work.”

“I have gum, but make sure you spit it out before we start rolling again, alright?” James bends down and reaches into the messenger bag resting by the foot of his chair, pulling out a pack of gum and handing Kendall a couple pieces. “There’s one for Logan, too.”

“Thanks,” Kendall says. “I’ll let you guys get back to business.”

James offers him a polite smile, and Carlos doesn’t seem to be paying him any attention at all, and Kendall offers his own tense smile before he quickly walks away, weaving around tables and chairs and people to get back to where Logan’s standing.

“Pretty sure the director already hates me,” he says, offering Logan a stick of gum. “Oh, this is all James had, said to make sure we get rid of it before we start filming again.”

“Why do you say that?” Logan asks, popping the gum into his mouth.

“Just the vibe I’m getting from him,” Kendall says, then goes on to say, “I dunno, he just looks at me—when he even bothers to acknowledge my presence—like he wishes I wasn’t around or something.”

“Maybe he’s just one of those directors who’s all business and doesn’t socialize with the actors,” Logan suggests, but from the look on his face, Kendall’s not quite sure Logan believes it any more than he himself does.

“Yeah, maybe,” Kendall says anyway. “Who knows.”

They stand together, silent, watching the crew make adjustments to the lights and cameras and set dressings until they're called back to their marks.

\--

The scene has barely been wrapped before they're being dismissed for the day, and Kendall's only thought is: 'That's it?' Barely a seven hour day and they're already being sent home?

"I kind of expected longer days than this," Logan says, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, line of white where they're too tight around his hands.

"Yeah, me too," Kendall says, shrugs his shoulders.

"You should come over, have dinner, hang out, whatever," Logan says, quick and unsure, as though because now that they're filming, hanging out is somehow out of the question.

"Yeah, sure," Kendall replies. "What's on the menu?"

"I could grill some steaks or something," Logan says, and starts off toward their dressing rooms, looking back at Kendall to make sure he's following.

"Grilled steaks, huh?" Kendall asks, teasing and flirty. "I do like a guy who can handle his meat."

Logan turns a scarlet shade of red, the color slipping down his throat and chest, beneath the fabric of his shirt, Kendall's sure.

"Dude," Logan says, face still flaming.

"I'm only teasing!" Kendall says, laughing, holding his hands up in front of him in a non-threatening gesture.

Logan laughs, color on his face slowly returning to normal. "Warn me next time you're gonna say something like that."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Kendall asks, same flirty and teasing voice as before.

Logan shakes his head, smiling, those dimples carved deep into his cheeks, and ducks into his dressing room, snick of the door closing behind him.

\--

Kendall changes into the sweatpants and t-shirt he wore into the studio, slipping back into the comfort of his beat up tennis shoes, hanging up the day's wardrobe on the empty half of the clothing rack.

Logan's already waiting outside their dressing rooms, keys twirling around his fingers. "Did you need to stop at home, or are you good to follow me to my place?" he asks, falling into step beside Kendall as they exit to the parking lot.

“If you’ve got food and drinks,” Kendall says, “I’m good to follow you.”

Instead of climbing into a car like Kendall thought he would, he sees Logan pulling a helmet from the motorcycle on the lot, the motorcycle Kendall failed to notice this morning. It’s all black and shiny chrome, rays from the sun glinting off its surface.

He watches Logan swing his leg over it effortlessly, smoothly, settling into the seat before it roars to life, throaty growl from the engine that skitters up Kendall’s spine.

Well, hello there, thing he didn’t even know he was attracted to.

He’s glued to the spot, watching the way Logan handles the bike with ease, and it’s not until Logan lifts the visor on his helmet and looks over at him does Kendall realize Logan’s waiting on him. He flushes in embarrassment at being caught, pulls his keys from his pocket and quickly gets into his SUV, starting the engine and pulling up behind Logan.

Logan takes off once Kendall’s behind him, and Kendall follows smoothly, tracing Logan’s path through the city, onto the highway, traffic backed up for miles.

Traffic moves up inch by inch, and it feels like it takes the entire night before they’re finally pulling off, Logan ahead of him, zipping and weaving through cars in a way that makes Kendall’s heart nearly stop in his chest out of fear of losing sight of Logan and Logan crashing into someone.

They make it safely to Logan’s apartment and Kendall’s heart resumes its normal beating. He parks in the stall next to Logan, shutting off the engine and exiting, closing and locking the doors behind him.

“Pretty fucking awesome, right?” Logan asks, tugging the helmet off his head.

Kendall feels the first real bite of attraction simmering low in his belly, Logan’s face flushed and slightly sweaty, hair flat and matted to his forehead. “Yeah, definitely,” he says, a little dumbly.

“Should’ve washed this make-up off before we left. Fucking itches,” Logan complains.

That brings Kendall back to himself and he shakes off his thoughts, nodding. “You should probably start carrying around make-up removal wipes. They really come in handy.”

“Thanks for telling me that now,” Logan says. “Couldn’t have told me sooner?”

“Nah,” Kendall replies, shaking his head. “Some things you gotta figure out for yourself.”

“Sometimes you’re a real jerk, Schmidt,” Logan says, then laughs.

“Right back at ya, buddy.”

Logan leads them down the short cement path to his apartment, pausing to shove the key in the lock and turn it, the door swinging open a moment later.

There’s a pile of boots off to the side of the door, all black and in various states of falling apart, scuff marks and dirt all over them.   
The apartment, while spacious and clean, lacks any real furniture. Kendall thinks it's pretty understandable, given the position Logan is currently in, just out of college with a fancy diploma to his name, nowhere to use it, and a ridiculous amount of debt piled up high. He probably depleted his savings account to keep his apartment and furnish it with what he does have: a threadbare sofa in the middle of the living room, a coffee table that's been stripped of its shine, a dining table that's propped up by a stack of magazines under two of the legs, mismatched chairs pushed in on either side. The only thing that looks of value is the entertainment center that's pushed against a living room wall, a decent-sized flat screen TV on top, two different game systems resting on the shelf below.

"I know it's not much," Logan says, "but working at a coffee shop can only get you so much, y'know?"

"It's a lot better than the first apartment I had," Kendall says, grimacing at the memory. "You've got a TV, you've got a couch, Xbox, PS3. Far as I'm concerned, that's all you need."

"What was your first apartment like?" Logan asks, leading them into the kitchen where he grabs the steaks from the fridge, potatoes from the lower cupboard next to it, juggling them all in one hand until Kendall steps in and takes them, allowing Logan to reach up into another cupboard for the aluminum foil.

As Logan leads Kendall out to the small yard that comes with his apartment, getting the grill started, Kendall regales him with the tale of his first apartment and what an utter shithole it was: how the ceiling leaked, the hot water barely ever worked, the stains permanently bedded in the carpet, the stale smell of cigarette smoke that never went away no matter how much air freshener Kendall sprayed, how he couldn't have more than three things plugged in at the same time in the same room without tripping the breaker, how none of the windows had screens in them so they couldn't be opened without every bug flying in—and the summer he lived there was hot like a bitch, with no air conditioning, either—and how his neighbors—upstairs, to the right, and to the left—seemed to either party, fight, or have ridiculously loud sex all hours of the day and night.

"Why'd you even move there in the first place?" Logan asks, slapping the marinated steaks onto the heated grill.

"It was all I could afford," Kendall replies, shrugging.

"Was pay that bad when you started?" Logan holds up a finger—just a minute—and ducks inside, bringing the two dining chairs with him.

"I was lucky if I got a few hundred bucks for the first couple films I did," Kendall says. "It's not like it is if you're a girl: you can't really fake it. It’s all about the comeshot. They start you out at virtually nothing until you can prove that you can stay hard and hold out and come when they want you to, and that's not easy when they have you doing shit that makes your dick wanna shrivel up and hide."

"You seem to have done pretty well for yourself, considering," Logan says, frowning.

"Yeah, I did," Kendall says. "Took a couple years, a lot of films I've bleached from my mind, but I started making the big bucks, picking and choosing what I wanted to do, and now I own my house, own my car, have a decent amount stashed away in my savings. It wasn't easy, and I really don't recommend anyone get into the porn business, but getting to the top can be done."

"Kendall Schmidt: Rags to Riches, I can see it now," Logan says, chuckles, breaking the serious atmosphere that had built up around them.

"Ass," Kendall says, punching Logan's upper arm, solid length of muscle hitting his knuckles.

Logan stands and flips the steaks, rearranging the aluminum foil wrapped potatoes.

Kendall's phone goes off, a sudden blast of sound that nearly tosses him out of his seat.

"Whatcha doin'?" Katelyn asks when he answers.

"Hanging out at Logan's place. Why, what's up?" Kendall asks. He slides down a little in his chair, resting his right ankle on his left knee.

"Bored," Katelyn whines. "I've cleared my DVR and there's nothing else on."

"What's Erin doing?"

"I think she said she had yoga after she finished working," Katelyn replies, note of longing in her voice.

"Invite her over," Logan says suddenly. "We can share the food."

"You sure?" Kendall asks, hand covering half the phone to muffle their conversation.

"Yeah, of course."

Kendall invites Katelyn over, promises that Logan said it was okay—even hands Logan the phone when Katelyn doesn't believe him—then rattles off the address, hanging up after she says she'll be right over.

“Prepare yourself,” Kendall says. “She’s probably going to ask a million and one questions about how filming today went.”

“I’m not too worried about that,” Logan says. “Erin will probably do the same thing when I talk to her.”

“What about your agent or whoever it was that came to the meeting with you?” Kendall asks, belatedly realizing he’s only ever heard Logan mention Erin when it comes to talking about the project, or anything really.

“Victoria? I don’t really know her,” Logan says. “When Erin suggested me for the part, I went in and had a meeting with James and Carlos, and after I told them I didn’t have an agent or anything, James set me up with Victoria, so.”

“If this is something you plan on sticking with for a while, you should look into getting an agent you can trust, one you’ll really be able to work with,” Kendall suggests. “Sometimes the ones they assign you don’t really work in your favor.”

“Maybe I’ll just steal Katelyn from you,” Logan says, grinning.

“She probably wouldn’t mind, actually,” Kendall says.

“Who wouldn’t mind what?”

Kendall turns in his seat to find Katelyn standing there, hand on her hip. “Speak of the devil,” he stage-whispers to Logan.

“I heard that!” Katelyn exclaims, causing Kendall and Logan to burst out laughing. “Boys,” she says, shaking her head. She moves closer, arms folded over her stomach. “What are you guys doing?”

“Talking, chilling, relaxing,” Kendall replies, “and waiting for the food to finish.”

“Beats the hell out of staring at a blank TV screen,” Katelyn says, then finally turns to Logan. “Thanks for letting me intrude.”

“It’s not a problem at all,” Logan says, smiling.

Kendall’s coming to find that he’s really kind of fond of Logan’s smile.

“The food should be done soon,” Logan says, and lifts the top off the small black grill, smell of grilled meat and smoking charcoal permeating the space around them.

“Awesome,” Katelyn says, rubbing her hands together. “I’m starving.”

“Of course you are,” Kendall says, mischievous glint in his eye. “You could probably eat a horse and still be hungry.”

“Don’t be jealous that even the sight of a burger goes straight to your gut,” Katelyn fires back.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, Kate,” Kendall says, self-conscious about the fact that Katelyn’s right. He knows he doesn’t have tight and toned washboard abs, but he’s slim, lithe, and almost anything he eats sits right there, a little pooch that he absolutely fucking hates. It’s not so bad when he’s not filming, when he’s between projects, but when he knows he’s going to have to bare it all, he’s so cautious about what he eats, sticking to the fresh fruits and vegetables growing in his garden or that he picks up from the farmer’s market.

“Stop it,” Katelyn says, whacking his shoulder. “Tell me how the first day went.”

Kendall shrugs his shoulders, says it was fine, knowing she’ll pester him until he gives her the full scoop.

It doesn’t happen that way, though. When he doesn’t say anything further, Katelyn switches her attention to Logan, smile honey sweet. “How did it go, Logan?”

“Uh, y’know, it was fine. Kind of intense, but not too bad,” Logan says, eyes darting back and forth between Kendall and Katelyn. “Everyone seems nice enough, though.”

Kendall snorts, quickly clapping a hand over his mouth and nose.

“Something you wanna share?” Katelyn asks, eyes narrowed.

Kendall shakes his head, then figures he might as well tell her how he’s pretty sure the director hates him since she’ll get it out of him sooner or later.

“He’s probably just nervous about how this film is going to turn out,” Katelyn says.

Kendall’s saved from commenting further when Logan notifies them that the food is done, quickly ducking inside and returning with a plate to put it on before telling them to follow him back in, setting the food down on the table and grabbing some more plates and silverware.

Kendall splits his steak with Katelyn, not entirely hungry in light of Katelyn’s comments about his stomach. What he does eat is delicious, though, steak perfectly tender, center just a little bit pink, exactly the way he likes it. “This is great,” he says, swallowing.

Logan flushes under the praise, murmuring a quiet ‘thanks.’

“So,” Kendall says, cutting into his baked potato, “how’re things going with Erin?”

It’s Katelyn’s turn to blush, shy smile teasing the edge of her lips. “Things are good,” she says, looking down at her plate. “We had coffee on Saturday, and it turned into an early dinner.”

“How did that go?” Logan asks, looking interested, like he’s waiting on tenterhooks for what her response will be.

“It was really good,” says Katelyn, biting her lip. “She’s funny and awesome and sweet, and I really like her.”

“That’s great, Kate,” Kendall says, covering her hand with his own.

Katelyn smiles, so big and wide it scrunches up her eyes. “We have another date this Friday.”

“I’m happy for you,” Kendall says, soft squeeze to Katelyn’s hand before he lets it go, picking up his fork and finishing the last of his potato.

Katelyn doesn’t stay much longer after they finish eating, something about how she’d rather not sit around for hours watching two boys kill each other over and over on a game falling from her lips as Kendall walks her out.

Logan’s sitting on the couch when Kendall returns, and he wastes no time in joining him, the couch surprisingly comfortable beneath him.

“Katelyn’s pretty cool,” Logan says, piercing the silence.

“Eh,” Kendall says, but Logan’s right: Katelyn really is one of the coolest people he knows, even if she’s a pain in his ass sometimes. “Hey, has Erin mentioned anything about her?”

Logan shakes his head. “She hasn’t, but next time I talk to her, I’ll see if I can get anything out of her.”

“You know it’s not that I don’t trust her or think she’s disingenuous, I’m just worried about Katelyn.”

“Yeah, dude, I know,” Logan says. “I’d be the same way if our roles were reversed.”

Kendall nods and the conversation ends. Logan gets up and retrieves the controllers for the Xbox, turning the TV on and starting up the game.

The game helps calm his nerves, stills some of the jitteriness that’s slowly building up inside him.

“You think you’re gonna be okay tomorrow?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as Logan shoots his character in the head.

“I dunno,” Logan says, “maybe.” He’s punching buttons harder than necessary when Kendall looks over, and he can see the nerves and anxiety and fear in the tense line of Logan’s back.

“It’s all technical and impersonal, and with how today went, there’ll probably be a million stops and starts to make sure all the angles and lights are properly placed,” he says, trying to ease Logan’s apprehension.

"Yeah," Logan says, blowing out a long breath. "It's just—I dunno."

Kendall gets it, he really does. As much as he enjoys having sex and getting off, the presence of people he really doesn't know hanging around and the cameras pointed at him still makes his dick want to hide. It's gotten better over the years, but that first time will always be something he remembers.

\--

_He knows no one on the set, told Katelyn that he'd be okay on his own, that she should just stay home and he'll call her when he's done. He regrets it instantly the moment he's on set, could really use a friendly face right about now._

_His stomach won't settle down, nervous dips and rolls that make him feel like he's about to lose the meager amount of food he was able to eat this morning._

_He's whisked around the place, shoved into a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a tight black shirt that doesn't even meet the waistband of the pants, dragged to makeup where his face is cleaned before being plastered with layer after layer of tacky liquids and powders, then guided to the set where everyone is milling about, undoubtedly waiting for him._

_There's very little talking going on, and when his costar appears—Jack something or other, he can't fucking remember—everything falls silent, only the director speaking, telling them where to go and what he wants and is expecting._

_Jack something or other is easily twice Kendall's age and size, huge hulking muscles in his arms and legs and stomach, dark hair a messy tangle atop his head, eyes as blue as the sky. His jaw, sharp and angular, is covered in a day's worth of stubble, lips thin and pale pink._

_The director calls quiet on the set, tells Kendall and Jack to go ahead and take their marks, then it's action, cameras rolling, Kendall's heart lodged somewhere in his throat._

_There's no premise to what they're filming. Kendall's sitting on the couch provided and Jack enters, sits down beside him, leg practically on top of Kendall's. He leans in, lips against the shell of Kendall's ear, whispers how he's going to split Kendall's ass so good he'll be feeling him for weeks, and Kendall can't help it, squeezes his eyes shut tight, doesn't care that he ruined the shot._

_"From the top," the director shouts. "Look alive, boys. Gotta make it look real!"_

_And they start again, Jack forgoing words in favor of biting at the lobe of Kendall's ear, an instant shot of pleasure rocketing through him. His lips part on a sigh and he turns into it, tilts his head back to give Jack more space._

_Faintly, he can hear the director saying "Good, good, keep going," but it's washed out under the feel of lips and tongue and teeth working along his neck, his chin, lips claimed in a kiss that's so fucking rough and unpleasant, the haze of slow building arousal dissipating._

_He fakes his interest, keeps sighing and groaning, Jack's teeth and tongue wreaking havoc on his mouth, and then finally he's pulling away and Kendall can breathe again, lips stinging and burning and aching._

_The cameras are moving all around them, tracking their every move, and Kendall feels that uneasiness rising in his throat again, Jack rising to his feet, eyes flicking from his crotch to Kendall, back and forth, back and forth, until Kendall understands what he's supposed to do._

_He slides to the edge of the sofa, hands surprisingly steady as he reaches out, popping open the button and easing down the zipper._

_Jack's not wearing underwear, no surprise there, and he's—he's fucking big, okay, dick jerking up when Kendall tugs the jeans down._

_Kendall's good at this, knows he is, has had his mouth praised plenty of times before, and he leans in, one hand wrapped around the thick shaft, tongue darting out to lick around the head._

_Jack wastes no time in shoving his hips forward, parting Kendall's lips and all but forcing himself inside. His hands are in Kendall's hair and Kendall can't do much but take it, let Jack use his mouth how he wants, fighting to breathe and suppress his gag reflex._

_Kendall lets his eyes flutter open, hums softly as though he's enjoying it, and Jack smirks down at him, disgusting filth falling from his lips that Kendall tries to block out._

_None of it is like he thought it would be; there's no softness, no hinted at attraction, nothing but demeaning words and demeaning actions, his head held tightly between Jack's hands as his mouth is used, sloppy spit and precome dripping down his chin._

_Jack must get some kind of signal from the director then, because he’s pulling off, thumbs rubbing over the bruised and sore skin of Kendall’s lips, dirty smile showing his teeth. Kendall lets himself be pulled to his feet, lets Jack pull him in close, kiss no softer this time than it was before._

_Kendall can’t get himself into the scene, his head a mess of reasons why he should stop this, go crawling back to his parents, and there’s barely any pleasure when Jack starts rubbing him through his jeans, rough fabric against the sensitive skin making Kendall want to wince and twitch away before he remembers that he can’t._

_The remainder of the scene isn’t really pleasurable or fulfilling, orgasm perfunctory at best. He feels disgusting and used, sore and split open, come sliding down his back and ass._

_Every step he takes makes it feel like a million and one needles are stabbing his lower body over and over again, and he uses the disgustingly tight shirt they had him wear to clean himself off, tossing it to the side when he changes back into his own clothes, slowly feeling more like himself._

_The director tracks him down before he leaves, pats his shoulder and tells him that he’s a natural, slipping a check for a few hundred dollars into Kendall’s hand. He feels the first bite of tears at the realization that he’s reduced himself to this, but no matter how much he wants to back out and go home, it’s not an option, not with the way they so firmly shut the door in his face when he told them what he was going to do._

_He drives to his shitty apartment in a daze, Katelyn already there waiting, and he lets himself fall apart in her arms, her quiet, soothing voice telling him that it’ll get better, that there are plenty of other things he can do, and that no matter what, she’ll always be there for him._

_He’s not proud of the fact that he made the decision to get into the porn industry, and if he could go back, he’d make a different decision, work at a fucking fast food place or something, but he’s here now and he’s not going to go crawling back to his parents, begging for forgiveness, swearing that it was all mistake, that they were right, that he should’ve listened to them, pride too loud and insistent that he doesn’t need to, that he can do this, and goddammit, he can._

\--

“My first film was a disaster,” Kendall says softly, controller dangling limply in his hands. “I won’t let it be like that for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Logan says, and bumps his shoulder against Kendall’s.

They resume their game with more interest than before, and when Kendall leaves a few hours later, he says, “Everything will be fine. If at any moment you’re feeling like you need a break or you have even the slightest feeling of being uncomfortable, let me know, okay? I’ll ask for a break right away to give you a few minutes to recoup.”

“Thanks, man,” Logan says, and he pulls Kendall into a hug, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, k?”

“Yeah,” Kendall says, nods, a little dumbfounded at the easy affection Logan’s displayed. “Have a goodnight.”

He watches Logan retreat back inside as he starts his car, shifting into reverse when the apartment door closes.

He’s grateful that of all people Logan has to work with on his first adult film, it’s him. There’s no knowing if anyone else would have shown any compassion, would’ve taken it easy on Logan with it being his first film, but from his experience, taking it easy isn’t really something that’s done.

Even after his first film, the ones that followed were rough, almost to the point of brutal, and he had to construct so many walls inside his head to remove everything that made him real, that made him who he was, in order for him to be who they wanted him to be onscreen.

There finally came a point where he was able to enjoy it, but that was years later when he’d finally established himself in the industry, when he and Katelyn were able to be choosy about what films he did. He worked with a few of the same studios for numerous films and was able to build up a working friendship with the other stars, and it made it easier, made it more fun, and he hopes that he’s able to do that for Logan.

\--

Kendall’s not needed on-set until 11, and he luxuriates in being able to sleep in, knowing that the further they get into filming, the less he’s going to be able to.

He showers and dresses when his alarm goes off, brushes his teeth and feeds his pets, grabbing a bagel and a bottle of water to eat and drink on his way to the studio.

Traffic isn’t as bad as it normally is, and he cruises down the highway until he gets to the exit he needs. Logan’s bike is already in the parking lot, but there’s no sign of Logan anywhere outside.

He finds Logan inside, standing in the hallway where their dressing rooms are, nervously attentive as he listens to whatever it is James is talking to him about. He leaves them to it and closes the door to his room, stripping out of his clothes and replacing them with the same outfit from yesterday, smelling clean and freshly laundered.

James is gone when he gets back out, and the door to Logan’s dressing room is closed. He debates waiting, but figures Logan might need the time to himself, and heads off to make-up alone, greeting the make-up artist with a friendly smile.

When his hair and make-up are finished, Logan still hasn’t made an appearance. He reclines in his chair, closing his eyes and letting his head loll back, still fifteen minutes to go before they’ll need to be in their places.

He hears Logan approach a few minutes later, offer a soft greeting to Stella—Kendall’s pretty sure that’s what her name is—the creak of his chair as he settles into it.

Stella starts tutting and chastising a second later, going on about how Logan needs to sleep more, that if the bags under his eyes get any worse, there’ll be very little she’ll be able to do about them.

Kendall frowns. He’d figured Logan was going to be pretty restless and anxious over today’s scene, but he didn’t really realize it’d cost Logan much needed sleep. He feels like an idiot for not remembering he was almost the exact same way when he shot his first film, how he tossed and turned straight through the night into the morning and managed less than an hour of sleep before he had to be at the studio.

He should’ve told Logan to take an Advil PM or something to help him sleep.

_’Oh, Kendall, it’s not your job to take care of everyone,’_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Katelyn’s says in his head.

He’s not an idiot; he knows it’s not. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try to, or at least be as helpful as he can. What good is all the experience he has if he doesn’t use it to help others?

"Alright," Stella says, "looks like you boys are needed on set."

Kendall opens his eyes and sits up, hands rising to his face before he realizes he can't rub his eyes. He sighs, looks over at Logan, lips stretching into a reassuring smile.

They're quiet as they make their way to the set, extras milling about and filling the area of the dance floor. The sea of people part to make room for them, taking their positions that are marked on the floor.

"Hey," Kendall says softly, reaching out and placing a hand on Logan's forearm. "Remember what I told you, okay?"

Logan nods, smiles, and when action is called, all traces of doubt and hesitancy are gone.

\--

_Kendall pulls Logan in close, closer until there's no space left between them, heat and scent of him filling Kendall's senses with everything that is Logan, everything that is this gorgeous guy pressing in closer still, hands inching up beneath Kendall's shirt._

_Kendall bends his head and leans in closer, forehead pressed to Logan's, lips so close he can feel every exhale washing over his skin._

_"Back room," Logan says, deep and throaty, fissures of heat and want and need licking up Kendall's spine._

_He nods his head, laces their fingers together, heart beating loud in his chest, ears. He doesn't want to step away, doesn't want to lose all these points of heat and contact, but Logan's eyes are smoldering beneath the multicolored lights flashing in the club, and Kendall can't move fast enough, pushing through the throng of people in their way._

_The back room isn't so much a room as it is a wide hallway, curtained off by thick black drapes, walls spattered with blue and pink and green and orange fluorescent paints, ceiling lined with black lights. The hall splinters off into what can barely be called small rooms, large indents in the hall that give the illusion of privacy._

_There are bodies everywhere, music muffled, almost drowned out by the various gasps and moans that rent the air. The scene is captivating, intoxicating, erotic, and Kendall can't wait a second longer, backs Logan up against the wall, hands on his hips, eyes locked together._

_Logan fists his hands in the front of Kendall's shirt, pulls him in until they're flush together again, lips slick and swollen as they slide together, chase of tongue and teeth and soft, gasping breaths until Kendall's head is spinning, his dick a hard line in the tight confines of his jeans._

_He rocks his hips into Logan, feels the answering press of Logan's cock against his thigh, and kisses Logan harder, licks the gasps and moans right from Logan's mouth._

_Their chests are rising and falling rapidly when they separate, and Kendall's head is swimming with arousal, sees the look of it in the darkness of Logan's eyes, and he drops to his knees there, smirk tickling the edges of his lips as he looks up at Logan's face through his lashes, sees the look of shock and utter want displayed there._

_"Gonna make this so good for you," he says, not even sure Logan can hear him, needing to say the words regardless._

_He rucks up Logan's shirt with his nose, dropping a feather-soft kiss to the skin below his belly button. There's the faintest trail of hair disappearing down into Logan's jeans, and it makes his mouth water, makes his cock throb in his jeans._

_He teases for a moment, trail of kisses from Logan's belly button to the spur of each hip and back, tongue flickering out just above the button on his jeans._

_"Please," Logan gasps out, body undulating like a wave, hips pushing into Kendall's face._

_Kendall pops the button and inches down the zipper, parting the fabric to either side. The boxer-briefs Logan's wearing underneath are white, tight, perfect little damp patch where the tip of his dick is pressing against them. He licks and sucks at it, tries to pull the taste of Logan into his mouth through the fabric, frustrated momentarily when he can't._

_Logan's hips are rolling restlessly, fingers reaching out to tangle in Kendall's hair, and Kendall wrestles with Logan's jeans, fabric so tight it doesn't appear to want to budge, but then they're sliding down, hanging limply around his thighs, and Kendall doesn't waste a second longer, shoves Logan's boxer-briefs down with them, eyes closing as he wills himself not to come on the spot._

_Logan's cock is gorgeous, thick and cut, skin around it smooth as fucking silk. The tip is sticky wet with precome, little bead of it blurting out the tip, and Kendall licks his lips before he tongues it away, eyes closing in bliss at the faint salty taste that explodes on his tongue._

_Logan's hand tightens in his hair when Kendall wraps his lips around the head and sucks, tongue teasing into the slit. Kendall fists a hand at the base, thumb teasing up and down the seam of Logan’s balls as he opens his throat and takes him down, tongue fluttering along the vein on the underside._

_The weight and heat of Logan on his tongue is heaven, and Kendall lets out a moan that has Logan pressing in that much further, Kendall’s hand falling away, nose pressed flushed to the smooth skin above Logan’s dick._

_He pauses there for a moment, relishes the way his throat feels stuffed full, then draws back, lips a tight seal around the heated flesh._

_Logan’s moaning and gasping above him, hips unable to stay still, cock sliding in and out of the circle of Kendall’s lips. Kendall slides back down to the base, sucks and licks at him like this is all he ever wants to be doing, and it doesn’t take long before Logan’s gasping out a warning, tugging just this side of too rough at Kendall’s hair._

_Kendall pulls back and licks his lips, swollen and slick with spit and precome, hand wrapped in a tight fist as he jerks Logan to completion, come painting his lips and cheeks and chin._

_“Fuck,” Kendall says breathily, rising to his feet. Logan’s hands reach out and cradle his jaw, soft and tender instead of the roughness Kendall was expecting, and then Logan’s lips and tongue are licking away the strands of come on his face, moaning like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever done, and Kendall’s eyes nearly roll back in his head because godfuckingdamn, this guy is going to be the death of him._

_“So fucking gorgeous,” he groans, crashing his lips into Logan, licking away the salty bitter taste until all that’s left is Logan, hips rocking back and forth into Logan’s hip._

_“Let me,” Logan says against his lips, and Kendall nods, gasps out what he thinks might be yes and please, and then Logan’s freeing him from his jeans, friction so deliciously perfect that it barely takes a handful of strokes before Kendall feels that tingle starting in his toes and racing up his spine._

_“Oh, fuck,” Kendall gasps out, hips thrusting into Logan’s grip. “M’gonna come,” he says, breath hitching in his chest._

_“Yeah, fuck, c’mon,” Logan says, strokes speeding up. “Wanna see you come, wanna see you lose it for me.”_

_Kendall comes like a freight train, feels it from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair, pleasure exploding out of him in a way he’s never felt before, come slicking Logan’s fist as he wrings out every last drop, finally slowing as the pleasure ebbs away._

_The kiss that follows is sweet, tender, foreheads resting together as they breath in the small space between them._

\--

It takes Kendall a few seconds to come back to himself after they call cut, and he blinks away the last tendrils of pleasure as he turns and tucks himself away, glance out the corner of his eye showing Logan doing the same.

Kendall hates this part the most, how awkward everything feels after the scene has ended, the people milling about standing frozen, their eyes wide and the bulge in their jeans making Kendall’s stomach churn unpleasantly.

“That’s a wrap for today, guys,” James calls out, and Kendall belatedly realizes he hasn’t seen a trace of Carlos all day, that it’s been James calling all the shots, and something about it feels off, wrong, knowing that Carlos was supposed to be here.

It’s not like Kendall was putting on a show for him or anything. God, no. Carlos has made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t like Kendall in the least, and besides, there’s that whole thing where Kendall doesn’t get involved with anybody in this industry.

Still, he can’t quite seem to rid the thing crawling inside him that feels a lot like disappointment.

He turns to Logan, unsurprised to see the wide-eyed look of confusion and bewilderment on his face. “Hey, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Kendall asks, trying to make light of the situation.

The smile Logan gives him is shaky, like he’s been knocked completely off-kilter, and Kendall supposes he has, doing something like that for the first time in front of so many people, in front of a camera.

“Hey,” Kendall says, softening his voice. “Go get cleaned up, take a few minutes to get yourself together, then go home and relax. I know doing something like this isn’t easy, and you’re probably seconds from freaking out now that it’s over, but take the night to yourself and relax, decompress. Everything’ll be okay.”

Logan nods and stumbles away, and Kendall sighs, frowns, wishing for a moment that Erin hadn’t gotten Logan into this.

What’s done is done, Kendall supposes, knowing it can’t be _un_ done, not unless Logan wants to back out of the contract and face a heavy fine for it, and judging by the fact that he’s already in over his head with debt, it’s not something he’s going to allow to happen.

Kendall just hopes he’s ready for the next day of filming.

\--

Logan's more subdued the next day, smile on his face always just a little bit dimmer, eyes not as playful and bright. They manage to make it through the scheduled scenes with little mishaps, and they're barely done being excused from the set before Logan's gone, a quickly uttered 'see ya' trailing after him.

Kendall expected this, and while he completely understands it, it still bothers him. He'd thought he and Logan were well on their way to becoming pretty good friends, and it unsettles him how quick Logan is at fleeing away from him.

During their short break for lunch, Logan had disappeared, no trace of him until they resumed filming. Kendall had felt like an idiot standing there alone, jealous of the way the rest of the crew all seemed to flock together, laughing and talking and shooting the shit like they were all out at a bar or something instead of in a studio filming a fucking porno.

And then there was the way Carlos was all smiles and happy looks every time someone approached him, and it made Kendall's mood even worse. He'd walked past Carlos earlier on his way to set and Carlos had given him a look filled with so much disdain before turning away that Kendall almost wanted to curl up and cry right then and there.

Carlos had looked so good, so happy, so goddamn gorgeous when he was laughing and talking with everyone else and it's what keeps Kendall hooked against his better judgment, the look of happiness and that fucking smile, teeth so brilliantly white, dark eyes squinted at the corners from the force of it, and that little ball of attraction just keeps growing bigger despite all the mental chastising Kendall keeps doing.

The loneliness seems to get worse when he's the only one on set that Thursday, no group of extras, no Logan, just him and the crew and James and Carlos.

It takes him the better part of the morning to get his head into his character, and by then Carlos is more frustrated than Kendall's had the displeasure of seeing him before, spitting curses and looking at him like he's trying to light him on fire or make him spontaneously combust, and still that stupid fucking ball of attraction seems to throb and grow, marveling at how fucking delectable Carlos looks when he's fired up and angry and passionate about his work.

"Don't take it so hard when Carlos is yelling," James says, coming up beside Kendall during the break Carlos gave him to "get his fucking head on straight." "He's just really stressed and worried about this not turning out perfectly."

It's the same thing Logan had said, and still, Kendall can't quite believe that's all it is.

"Yeah, sure," Kendall says, shrugging. "Just having a bit of an off day, I guess. I'll be better this time."

Kendall knocks it out of the park when they resume filming, a satisfied smirk spreading across his lips when he looks over at James and Carlos, his expression not faltering for a second even under the glare Carlos is sending his way.

Whatever. Carlos can be a dick all he wants, and the stupid little flare of attraction in his chest can grow all it wants, but Kendall's a fucking professional and he can do this, he's going to do this, and when it's done and over with, he's going to bury Carlos and this entire film way down deep in his head where he'll never have to worry or think about them again. Unfortunately for him, they've still got the better part of two and a half weeks left of filming, and it's going to try his patience to get through it.

\--

Thursday isn't any better. Kendall's alone on set again, this time in a bedroom, clothes thrown haphazardly all over the thick carpeted floor, walls a soft shade of cream. There's a dresser with a television on top and a desk with papers littered over the surface, brown curtains draped over the false window, light set up outside it to make it look like the sun is streaming in through the tiny break in the fabric. The bed is decent-sized, not quite as big as the California king Kendall has at home, blankets and sheets in varying shades of brown rumpled at the foot of it, giving the appearance that it's already been slept in.

Kendall's not entirely sure why they went that route with the bed, considering he's about to climb into it and actually mess it up, but whatever floats their boats. 

He's dressed in a pair of soft flannel sleep pants and a loose fitting t-shirt, hair a tousled mess, make-up done to look like he's at the end of a stressful day.

"Ready, Kendall?" James calls out, and Kendall's not even surprised that Carlos isn't anywhere to be seen.

"Sure thing, bossman," Kendall replies. He waits for James' nod then takes his place on the middle of the bed, one arm folded beneath his head, the other resting on his stomach.

"Action!"

\--

_Kendall sighs, tosses and turns on his bed, staring at his phone as though he can make it ring with the power of his mind._

_It's not going to ring, he knows that, and if it does, it's not going to be the person he wants to talk to, the one person he wants to see. He was an idiot, can't believe he managed to leave the club, leave the most gorgeous guy he's laid eyes on in his entire life, without getting his number._

_"Such an idiot," he says to himself, shaking his head, unable to stop thinking about him, picturing him, sense memory pushing Kendall to trail the tips of his fingers up his stomach, over his chest, thin fabric of his t-shirt brushing against his already tight nipples._

_A shiver ripples up his spine, mouth falling open on a soft sigh. He wants, wishes, so fucking fiercely for it to be Logan touching him, Logan's hands all over him, Logan pushing up the hem of his shirt, soft hands smoothing over his stomach, tips of his fingers sneaking into the waistband of Kendall's pants._

_"God, please," he begs, fully entrenched in the fantasy, eyes flickering back and forth beneath closed lids._

_He lifts his hips, shoving down his pants and kicking them off his feet, cock hard and leaking as it slaps against his belly._

_His legs fall open, the Logan in his head, behind his closed eyes, pressing a hand to the inside of his knee, silently asking to spread them._

_Kendall drags the tips of his fingers along his inner thighs, goosebumps breaking out over his skin, blurt of precome sliding down his cockhead._

_The Logan in his head looks up at him with lust-darkened eyes, soft smile spread across his lips._

_Kendall wraps a hand around his dick like the Logan in his fantasy, loose fist sliding up and down, slicker with each pass, hips snapping up into it as the curls of heat and impending orgasm draw his balls up tight._

_He folds his legs up to his chest, breathing rough and ragged, soft moan falling from his lips at the touch of his—Logan’s—fingertips circling the rim of his asshole, not pushing in, not exactly what Kendall wants, the touch barely there and feather-light, more of a tease than anything, but it pulls a pleasure-filled groan from deep inside, touch growing firmer and firmer as his hand picks up speed, slick sound of skin against skin filling the air._

_“Oh, god,” Kendall cries out, dry tip of his finger pushing in, cock jerking as he comes all over his stomach and hand, body trembling with each spurt that dribbles out until he’s spent, complete, stretching out languidly across his bed._

_He finally opens his eyes, satisfaction of his orgasm melting away when he realizes he’s alone. He groans, beyond disappointed. He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, wiping his stomach and hand before tossing it to the floor. “Biggest idiot ever,” he says, and flops back onto the bed, bitter taste of disappointment heavy and thick on his tongue as he closes his eyes._

\--

“Cut!”

Kendall sits up, gratefully accepting the robe that’s handed to him.

“Nice job today, Kendall,” James says as he approaches, patting Kendall on the back. “We’ll revisit this scene next week to fill in the parts of Logan’s coverage in the fantasy shot, and we’ll do the same for your coverage in his scene.”

“Sounds good, man,” Kendall says. “That it for today?”

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s all Carlos had scheduled,” James says, nodding.

“Hey, mind if I ask you something?” Kendall asks, gesturing to the side where it’s quieter, less chance of people eavesdropping.

James nods and leads them over to the side, arms folded loosely over his chest. “What’s up?”

“I was just wondering why Carlos isn’t around when these scenes are being done,” Kendall says, cursing at himself in his head for being unable to let this go.

“He’s got some other projects he’s finalizing at the moment,” James says, “and since I wrote the script, he feels more comfortable having me direct these shots, I guess, since I have a better understanding of how I want them filmed, what atmosphere I want the scenes to have, things like that,” he continues explaining.

“You’re doing a great job with it,” Kendall says. “It’s unlike anything I’ve filmed before, and I honestly can’t wait to see the finished product.”

“Thanks, Kendall,” James says, face flushing under the praise. “Now get outta here. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Kendall chuckles and nods, waving as he walks away, feeling the accumulated stress of the week melt away at the prospect of a four day weekend.

\--

He meets up with Katelyn for dinner, surprised that she’s available, until she says something about Erin having to cancel and reschedule their date.

“She had something to do for one of her classes that’s due tonight, so,” Katelyn explains over dinner, shrugging.

“That sucks,” Kendall says, frowning. “I know how much you were looking forward to tonight.”

“Yeah,” Katelyn says, blowing out a weary breath. “At least she rescheduled, I guess.”

“Is everything okay between you two?” Kendall asks, worried that what he’d been dreading about Katelyn and Erin’s relationship is happening.

Katelyn looks up from the salad she’s merely picking at, her eyes sad and distant. “I dunno,” she replies, biting her bottom lip. “Everything was great last weekend, or I thought it was, but then suddenly every time I’ve called or texted her this week, she’s all ‘oh, something came up’ or ‘I’m busy right now, can I call you back?’ and then she canceled tonight, and I dunno.”

Katelyn’s eyes are wet by the time she finishes, and Kendall quickly flags down their waiter, paying the bill before he ushers Katelyn out, arm wrapped around her waist.

He drives them back to his house in silence, thinking through how to approach the situation. He could tell Katelyn what Logan told him, how Erin has never been with another girl before, had never even shown interest until Katelyn came along, but the thought of Katelyn getting mad at him for keeping something like that quiet makes him think twice.

He knows it’s something he should’ve told her as soon as he found out from Logan, but he strongly wanted to believe that things between them wouldn’t be like that, that Erin wouldn’t just use her as some experiment to test the waters on the possibility of being bisexual, and now that it looks like that’s how things are turning out, it makes Kendall feel like complete and utter shit that he kept it from her.

Kendall pulls into the driveway of his house, shuts off the engine and says, “C’mon,” voice soft and gentle as Katelyn follows behind.

Katelyn settles down on the sofa in the living room while Kendall runs to the kitchen, delving into the freezer for the hidden stash of Chocolate Therapy. He grabs two spoons and returns to the living room, plopping down next to Katelyn and handing her the pint of ice cream.

“Thanks,” Katelyn says, voice barely above a whisper.

Kendall curls his arm around her shoulder and she tucks herself into his side, head pillowed against his chest.

“Is it stupid that I’m as upset as I am?” she asks, stabbing the spoon into the frozen center of ice cream.

“No,” Kendall says vehemently, shaking his head. “You really like her, Kate, it’s okay to be upset.”

“I just don’t know what I did wrong.” Her voice breaks and her shoulders shake, quiet sniffles piercing the silence.

Kendall closes his eyes, once again wishing that he hadn’t agreed to this film.

“It’s not you, Katelyn,” Kendall says, blowing out a slow breath.

“You can’t know that,” Katelyn says, tears soaking into Kendall’s shirt.

“But I do,” Kendall admits, and lets it all out, finally tells her everything Logan told him. He barrels through it, even when Katelyn stiffens and pulls away, ignoring the lump in his throat at the betrayed look she gives him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, the words sounding like they’re being forced out around a rock lodged in her throat.

“Because I didn’t want to believe Erin would be the kind of person who’d do something like that,” Kendall says, repulsed at his own actions.

Katelyn shakes her head, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You still should have told me.”

“I know.”

“I need to—I need to go home,” Katelyn says, melted pint of ice cream set carefully onto the coffee table.

“I’ll take you to pick up your car,” Kendall says, already rising to his feet before Katelyn shakes her head, a silent ‘no’ falling from her lips.

“I’ll call a cab,” she says, wiping her eyes even as tears continue to fall.

“You don’t have to do that,” Kendall says, “just let me take you to your car, Kate.”

“I just wanna be alone,” Katelyn says softly, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she heads toward the front door, ignoring Kendall calling her name.

“Fuck!” Kendall shouts.

The door slam shuts, echoing like a gunshot in the silence.

Kendall falls back onto the sofa, scrubbing his hands over his face. What the fuck did he just do?

Yeah, he knows Katelyn has every right to know about Erin, but it wasn’t his place to tell her. He was worried about her, just trying to look out for her, and it’s why he told her; he didn’t want her beating herself up for something that wasn’t her fault, something she couldn’t change, but all he’s really done is make things worse.

If Katelyn confronts Erin about it—and knowing Katelyn, she inevitably will—it’ll get back to Logan, fucking up his and Erin’s friendship, along with whatever tentative friendship—if it can even be called that right now—he and Logan have.

And what if all his worries were for nothing? What if Erin really is into Katelyn? How is the rest of their relationship even going to work now that the little seed of doubt has been planted in Katelyn’s head? What’s going to stop her from worrying months down the road that Erin’s just stringing her along, using her?

Not only can he not keep a relationship, he ruins ones he’s not even in.

Jesus.

Kendall disposes of the ice cream, spoons clattering against the sides of the sink. He’s so mad and disgusted with himself he doesn’t even want to be inside his own body.

He forgoes grabbing a glass and reaches for the bottle of Patrón, uncorking the top and drinking straight from the bottle. He grimaces at the burn as it slides down his throat, liquid fire settling in his stomach.

It doesn’t take long for Kendall to start stumbling all over the place, legs not quite wanting to keep him upright or to walk a straight path. He carries the bottle with him upstairs, tripping more than once and sloshing it over his hand.

He’s such an idiot, such a fucking screw-up, it all makes sense why no one wants him, why everyone inevitably leaves him. He couldn’t keep his family, couldn’t keep a goddamn boyfriend if his life depended on it, can’t even keep his friends anymore. All he’s good for is sucking and fucking on camera, nothing more than a professional whore like Kyle told him he was.

He laughs bitterly at himself, swallows another mouthful, welcoming the numbing burn the tequila spreads through his body.

He just—he tries, he tries so fucking hard, to be someone people like, to make other people happy, to put everyone’s safety and comfort before his own, and it always blows up in his face.

All he wanted was to save some money for school and help his parents with the pile of debt they were in after his mom suddenly lost her job. Nowhere that paid enough wanted to hire someone fresh out of high school with very little work experience, and the bills were piling and piling and piling and they were on the verge of losing their house.

Kendall did what he had to do, but it wasn’t right, wasn’t good enough, dirty, disgusting money his parents wanted no part of and Kendall was out on his ass when they somehow found out he went ahead and did the first film anyway.

He doesn’t even know if they did end up losing the house, if they moved somewhere smaller, somewhere more affordable, doesn’t even know if his mom managed to find another job to help pay off all the bills. He hasn’t seen or talked to them since they told him to get out.

“Fuck ‘em, don’ need ‘em,” Kendall says aloud, another pull on the bottle to chase thoughts of his parents away.

The bottle’s halfway gone and Kendall’s thoughts are nowhere near quieting down, circling on Kyle, Matt, Eric, every guy that came before them, how he wasn’t enough, wasn’t _good_ enough, how they wanted more, more, more when Kendall had nothing left to give that wasn’t true to who he was.

It all slides back to him never being good enough for anyone or anything, endless thoughts of why does he even bother bouncing around in his head. He’s better off alone; everyone’s better without him there to fuck everything up all the time.

Kendall sets the bottle down on his nightstand, stomach dipping and rolling as he rises to his feet. He’s such a pathetic drunk.

“Can’ even get drunk right,” he says, snorting derisively at himself. He stumbles to the bathroom, empties his bladder and washes his hands, avoiding his reflection in the mirror. There’s nothing there that he wants to see right now.

He drags himself back to his bedroom, not even bothering to grab the bottle again, face-planting onto the bed. It makes his stomach lurch in the most unpleasant of ways, but before he can dwell on it further, his eyes are closing and he’s passed out.

\--

The ridiculously loud foot stomping wakes Kendall the next morning, the sun so bright it feels like it’s drilling holes in his head. He tries to move to pull the blankets over his face, but all it does is make his head throb, his stomach jolt, and he’s flying out of bed, barely registering the pain in his wrist from hitting the table, collapsing to his knees and throwing up what feels like the entire contents of his insides.

It goes on for endless minutes, each throb of his head inciting a new round of retching, his stomach cramping when it tapers off and all he’s doing is dry heaving.

“You shouldn’t drink tequila, idiot, you know how sick and depressed that shit always makes you.”

“Shh!” Kendall says, arm flailing out to hit the owner of the voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t move, I’ll go grab the aspirin and water.”

Kendall doesn’t move, doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. He manages to flush the toilet and move his head out of the way to avoid any backsplash, and that about zaps all his strength, falling listlessly to the floor.

“Told you not to move.”

Kendall groans, clutching his head when the sound makes it feel like bombs are going off right beside him.

He wobbles and staggers as he rises to his feet, even under the guidance of another person. By the time he makes it back to his bed, sweat is beading along his hairline, his stomach churning once again.

"Drink."

The bottle of water is blessedly cool, soothing the rawness of his throat.

"Swallow."

Three pills are placed in his hand and Kendall tosses them back, shuddering at the bitter aftertaste they leave on the back of his tongue.

"Sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up."

Kendall nods and burrows into bed, pulling the blankets over him despite the sweat that's already prickling his skin.

It doesn't take long for him to fall back asleep, more comfortable now than he was only a short moment ago.

\--

When he wakes up the second time, his head isn't pounding as much and it doesn't feel like his stomach is going to stage another revolution. He sleepily rubs his face against his pillow, stopping the moment he realizes his pillow is a lot firmer than he remembers it being.

He squints open an eye, surprised to find Katelyn's face above his own. He thought he'd dreamt her being there earlier.

"Morning, sunshine," Katelyn says, not even bothering to soften her voice.

"Not so loud?" Kendall asks, wincing.

"Serves you right for being a dumbass," Katelyn says, all traces of teasing gone.

"Yeah, well." Kendall shrugs, or tries to, the way he's laying impeding the movement.

"I shouldn't have left the way I did," Katelyn says softly, fingers brushing through Kendall's hair.

"It was my fault," says Kendall. "I should've told you. You had the right to know."

"Yeah, I do have the right to know, but that's something Erin should've told me. It's not something I should've had to hear from you, who heard it from Logan," Katelyn replies. "I understand why you didn't tell me. If our roles were switched, I probably would've done the same thing."

"No," Kendall says, shaking his head. "I should've told you as soon as I found out, before you made that first date."

"But you didn't, and that's fine. Even if Erin does have a valid reason as to why she's been avoiding me, it's always something I'm going to worry about now that I know. How am I going to know if she's genuinely into me, or if it's all one big experiment for her?" Katelyn asks, nails scritching soothingly against Kendall's scalp.

"Trust her," Kendall says. "If she says she wants to be with you, if you manage to get past this little hurdle, you trust her and you believe what she says. Not everyone figures out their sexuality when they're young like you and I did. Maybe she's still working through it and that's why she's being distant. Maybe she wants to be 100% positive that she's actually into girls before she pursues this thing with you any further."

"I don't want to get hurt," Katelyn admits, voice soft and scared.

"Hey," Kendall says, looking up into Katelyn's eyes. "There's always a chance you'll get hurt, Kate, even if she were a lesbian. You're gonna have to figure out if this is a case where you're willing to take that chance."

"I know," Katelyn says, nodding. "I just—" she trails off and shrugs, seemingly out of words.

"C'mon, lay down. We'll watch stupid movies all day and order in pizza later." Kendall pats her leg gently, rolling slightly off to the side to give her the space to lie down.

"How 'bout you shower first?" Katelyn suggests, wrinkling her nose. "And I'll change the sheets. They stink like gross tequila."

Kendall laughs, feeling lighter than he has in days. "Alright, alright. I'll shower, you change the sheets, then movies and junk food."

"Good plan, Schmidt. Now move, your stench is really killing me."

Kendall pokes her in the stomach, rolling off the bed before she can retaliate. He grabs a change of clothes from the dresser, ducks into the bathroom and showers, mood brightening further at the cascade of water sluicing down his body, the clean scent of soap and shampoo filling his nose.

\--

Katelyn's got a new set of sheets covering the bed when Kendall emerges, bottom of his sweatpants dragging across the floor.

"I don't know why you never use these sheets," Katelyn says, smoothing her hand over them.

The sheets in question are a chocolate brown, thin stripes of baby blue and white running vertically across.

"I dunno," Kendall says. "They always seem kinda girly."

Katelyn snorts. "Didn't you pick them out?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"You're such a dork," Katelyn says, sticks out her tongue.

"Says you," Kendall replies.

"Bite me," Katelyn fires back. "We gonna watch these movies or what?"

\--

Kendall ends up falling asleep again, not even halfway through the first movie, headache mostly gone, stomach not trying to escape out his mouth.

There's a peacefulness he feels now, knowing he hasn't completely fucked things up with Katelyn. She's really the only person he has left, and he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

He wakes as the credits are rolling, Katelyn's voice hushed as she talks to whoever's on the phone.

"Who's that?" Kendall asks, when Katelyn's voice drops off, bed shifting as she moves.

"Hm? Oh, it was Erin," Katelyn says, and Kendall doesn't even have to look up to know she's smiling.

"Yeah? What'd she want?" Kendall asks, rubbing his eyes before he sits up.

"She uh—wanted to get together to talk later," Katelyn says, fingers bunching and smoothing the fabric of the sheets nervously.

"You gonna meet up with her?" Kendall closes his hand over hers, stilling the nervous, restless movement.

"Dunno," Katelyn says softly.

"You should," Kendall states. "See what she has to say, hear her out. Get everything cleared up."

"Yeah, we'll see," Katelyn replies, pinching the fleshy part of Kendall's palm until his hand moves off hers.

"What was that for?" Kendall asks, voice high and tight, rubbing the sting away.

Katelyn laughs, shoulders shaking. "How else was I gonna get you to move your hand?"

"Oh, I don't," Kendall says, voice dripping with sarcasm, "you could've asked?"

"Yeah, but that was more fun."

"For you, maybe!" Kendall pouts, thumb rubbing back and forth over the red mark on his palm.

"Don't be such a baby," Katelyn teases, climbing off the bed to change the movie.

She settles back in beside Kendall a moment later, skipping through the previews to get to the main menu screen.

"The Notebook? Really?"

"Shush. We watched your pick, now it's my turn."

Kendall settles back against the headboard, pillows piled behind him to make the position a little more comfortable.

"How was the rest of filming this week?" Katelyn asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"It was alright," Kendall says, half-heartedly watching the movie. "Did some solo stuff Thursday and Friday. That wasn't too bad. Wednesday pretty much sucked out loud, but what can ya do?"

"What happened Wednesday?" Katelyn asks, finally pulling her eyes away from the TV.

Kendall tells her about Tuesday's scene, then how Logan reacted after and how shitty it made filming on Wednesday, along with how it messed up his head and made filming alone Thursday harder, how Carlos seemed to take every opportunity to tear Kendall a new one.

"Maybe it's like elementary school," Katelyn says, leaving Kendall confused.

"I'm not following," he says, brows furrowed.

"You know what I mean, Kendall," Katelyn says, sighing. "Instead of being nice to the little girl you like, you pull her hair and push her around, pick on her and tease her because it's not cool to like girls yet. Maybe that's what Carlos is doing, being a jerk to you because he sees it as unprofessional to want to date someone who's playing a role in one of his films."

Kendall firmly squashes the little ball of hope that glows and pulsates at Katelyn's words. "No," he says, shaking his head. "I highly doubt that's it."

"It's not like you'd do anything, anyway. You don't date anyone in the business, remember?" Katelyn points out.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Kendall says, wondering why he even told Katelyn that in the first place. It makes his—no, not going there, not going there—that much harder to ignore, forbidden fruit and all that jazz.

"You could always say to hell with it and give it a shot," Katelyn suggests.

"I'd rather not get sued or fired, thanks," Kendall says, shaking his head to banish the idea. He's not going to, he's not. He already told himself he just wants to get through this film so he can put it all behind him and move on, and Katelyn's urging is making him forget that.

"Fine," Katelyn says, and lets it go. "As for Logan, I'm sure he just needs a little time. You didn't have to keep seeing the assholes you first worked with; you guys still have two weeks left. This can't be easy for him at all."

"No, I know," Kendall says. "I just didn't expect him to shut me out that way."

"He'll come around," Katelyn says, "just let him have his breathing room."

Kendall nods and sighs, silently agreeing. There's really not much else he can do, anyway.

\--

After Katelyn looks at her phone for what seems like the thousandth time in the last few minutes, Kendall pauses the movie and looks over at her. "Go see her," he says softly. "You're not doing either of you any good sitting here."

Katelyn sighs, entirely body deflating, looking for all the world like a puppet with its strings cut. "Yeah, I know."

Silence, the sound of the central air kicking in, a car passing on the street.

"Okay, I'm going," Katelyn finally says, but makes no move to get off the bed.

"Hey," Kendall says, pulls Katelyn in until she's tucked under his arm. "It'll be okay."

"And if it's not?" Katelyn asks, voice small and scared.

"Then we'll do what we always do: get drunk and move on." Even as he says it, Kendall knows it'll be nowhere near that easy, not with how into Erin Katelyn is.

"Yeah."

"Now c'mon," Kendall says, lightly shoving her away. "Go home, shower, get yourself all prettied up, and go see what's what."

"You saying I'm not pretty now?" Katelyn asks, brow quirked, tone deceivingly playful.

"You're stalling," Kendall points out.

Katelyn huffs. "I'm going."

Kendall follows her out, hugs her tight and presses a kiss to the top of her head before shooing her out the door.

As much as he’d pushed for Katelyn to leave, to go talk to Erin, he kind of regrets it, too. For all the money he has and how extravagant his house is, he’s totally and completely bored and alone. Neither watching movies nor playing video games holds any appeal, and going out alone appeals to him even less.

It’s sad to realize how much he depends on Katelyn for company.

\--

The rest of his extended weekend passes without incident, a few message exchanged between him and Katelyn. She’d said things between her and Erin were going to be okay, that obviously it was going to take a little time, but they were both willing to make it work, that this was something Erin really wanted, even if it was something she hadn’t really done before.

Kendall’s happy for them, he really is, but the selfish part of him wants to throw a fit and demand Katelyn spend time with him instead, that he has no one else but her therefore he needs her more. Regardless of how much he finds himself wanting to do that, he doesn’t allow himself to, won’t ruin things for Katelyn any more than he thought he already had. She deserves her own little slice of happiness and Kendall won’t take that away from her, not after everything she’s done for him.

\--

Wednesday comes bright and early, earlier than Kendall would have liked, and he has to drag himself out of bed, swallow down two cups of coffee before he feels awake enough to shower and get dressed.

Logan’s bike is already parked in the lot by the time he gets to the studio, and he’s surprised to find Logan talking it up with James and Carlos when he gets out onto the set, laughing and shooting the shit like it’s a normal, everyday thing.

For all he knows, it is. He wasn’t around for filming the last two days, wasn’t needed since they were filming Logan’s solo scenes, and it’s quite clear that something had shifted in that time.

Gone is the quiet and shy Logan that had been on set the first few days, replaced by a Logan who’s flirty and playful, laughing and smiling as though he has no cares in the world, and Kendall hates the way his stomach sinks at the feeling of being left out.

He doesn’t miss the way Carlos’ eyes land on him when he gets closer, a flicker of something Kendall can’t quite place passing in the space of a second before it’s back to what Kendall’s become familiar with: the look of dislike and disdain, so clear it’s like Carlos isn’t even bothering to hide it.

Whatever his reason is, it’s obvious that Logan’s theory was wrong. He quite obviously has no qualms about associating with the stars of his films, it’s just something about Kendall he doesn’t like.

Whatever. It’s no skin off Kendall’s back. He’s long since gotten past trying to get everyone to like him.

“Hey, Kendall,” Logan calls out, waving him over with a smile.

Kendall approaches warily, hands tucked into the pockets of the pajama pants he’s wearing. “Hey, Logan,” he says, smiling politely. “James. Carlos.”

James nods his head in greeting, returning the same polite smile, and Carlos doesn’t even acknowledge him, bumping his shoulder against James’ before he walks away.

The reaction doesn’t come as a surprise, far from it, really, but it still stings nonetheless.

“He’s just gotta go make sure the cameras are set up correctly,” James says, shrugging.

“Anyway,” Logan says, cutting in. “We were talking about grilling out at James’ place tonight. He’s got this place by the beach.”

Kendall raises his eyebrows, head quirked to the side. When did this happen, and what exactly is it? “Uh, sure?” he says, decidedly _unsure_ about the whole thing.

“Awesome,” James says, grinning. “You guys can follow me after we wrap for the day.”

Kendall nods, more confused than he’s letting on. What’s with this sudden turnaround, this—this attempt to make friends when they’re almost halfway through with filming? Why couldn’t this have been done _before_ they started, before he’d made the decision to keep to himself and just get this project done and over with?

“Alright, you guys get to your marks,” James says, shooing them away. “Carlos’ll wanna start filming soon.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kendall says, heading to where he needs to be. He turns to find Logan still talking to James, this private little smile on his face.

Well then, something’s clearly happening there, if the look James is giving Logan in return is anything to go by. Whatever it is, it’s gotten Logan out of his funk, for which Kendall is grateful. Hopefully he’ll be more open to talking again, and Kendall won’t feel so alone.

\--

Filming goes off without a hitch, the scenes shot quickly and efficiently—Carlos once again absent.

James is waiting for them when they get out of their dressing room, and there’s no time to ask Logan what’s going on, James quickly filling in the silence about his house and the food and how much he loves where he lives, how he has private access to this little slice of beach right behind his house, how he loves waking up early on the weekends to get in some surfing, and it’s easy to get lost in his words, Logan looking even more enthralled than Kendall could’ve thought.

It takes a while to get to James’ place, a sprawling two-story brick house with a wind-up driveway blocked off by a private security gate, glass windows big and open, allowing the sunlight to filter in.

Kendall’s more than surprised to see Carlos waiting beside his car, arms folded across his chest, looking every bit impatient.

James ushers them all inside, the hall littered with boots and shoes, a hook on the wall covered in different dog leashes.

“You have a dog?” Logan asks, pointing at the leashes.

“He should be around here somewhere,” James says, then whistles, excited barks quickly filling the air.

A small bundle of gray and black and white fur jumps at James’ legs, tail wagging a mile a minute.

“This little guy is Fox,” James says, lifting him easily and tucking him against his chest. He’s a cute little thing with one pale blue eye, the other a dark brown, pointed ears sticking straight up. James scratches between his ears a few times before setting him back down, telling him to go play.

“He’s cute,” Logan says, watching the dog scamper away.

Kendall nods his agreement, wondering why it never crossed his mind to get a dog to fill the aching loneliness he feels.

“He makes my dog look like Godzilla,” Carlos says, laughing.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” James says, surprised.

Carlos pulls out his phone and shows off a photo of his dog, a big hulking thing that would undoubtedly squash Fox like a bug. “That’s Sydney,” he says, eyes lit up in a way that makes Kendall’s heart flutter in his chest.

“You should bring her next time,” James says. “Fox could use a little doggie friend.” He switches his attention to Kendall and Logan. “What about you guys?” he asks, leading them through the house, wood floor shining brightly beneath them.

“Nah, no pets for me,” Logan says, frowning. “Can’t really afford it at the moment.”

“That sucks, man,” James says. “Maybe someday in the future?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Logan replies, though judging by the look on his face, it’s doubtful.

“What about you, Kendall?”

“No dogs,” Kendall says, shaking his head. “Got a snake and a turtle, though.”

“Really? How’d you decide to get those?” James asks, turning to rummage through the big stainless steel refrigerator.

“I don’t even know,” Kendall says, chuckling. “I was wandering around one day and ended up at a pet store, buying a turtle, and then a week later a fricken snake.”

“That’s pretty cool, though,” Logan says, laughing softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone that had a snake.”

They continue talking about pets they’ve owned or pets they’d eventually like to have while they prepare the food, James ducking outside to fire up the grill before returning a few minutes later, taking the tray of meats out with him.

“No meat jokes this time?” Logan asks, lips twitching as though he’s fighting back a smile.

“Nah,” Kendall says, winking. “Used my only good one on you.”

Logan flushes and laughs, swatting Kendall’s arm.

Kendall feels his own laugh bubbling up in return, but a quick glance at Carlos has all traces of laughter wiped away. Carlos’ eyes are narrowed to slits, jaw clenched so tight it looks painful. His hands are balled up into fists at his side, nostrils flaring with every labored breath he takes.

Logan turns and sees the look, quickly turning back to Kendall, his brows knit in confusion. “I’m just gonna—I’m gonna go see if James needs any help,” he says quickly, then darts out the sliding glass door off the kitchen to the back deck, leaving Kendall alone with Carlos for the first time ever.

Kendall swallows roughly, mouth gone dry. What is he even supposed to do, to say? He’s in no way prepared to deal with this, heart beating triple-time in his chest.

The silence is thick and choking, awkward in its endless moments.

“Why do you hate me?” Kendall asks suddenly, before he’s fully aware he was even going to open his mouth, regretting the words the instant they hit the air.

Carlos’ head snaps up, eyes big and wide, mouth opening and closing like a spastic fish. “I-I don’t,” Carlos says, shaking his head, frowning.

“You sure could have fooled me,” Kendall says, gaining strength, unable to stop now that he’s started. “I’ve barely even said more than a few words to you, yet every time I’m even anywhere around you, you’re looking at me or staring at me like you’re trying to start me on fire or will me into nonexistence. I’d understand you giving me those looks if I’d actually done something to deserve them, but I’ve done absolutely nothing. I’m there when I need to be, I’m professional, I don’t act out or demand things. I don’t understand what exactly it is that I did to offend you so deeply.”

Seconds tick over to minutes, Kendall’s words hanging in the air.

“Whatever,” Kendall says, scoffing. “Tell James thanks for the invite, but I’m just going to go home now.”

Kendall turns and heads back down the hall the way they came in, hand on the doorknob before Carlos’ voice calls out, “Wait.”

Kendall takes a deep breath and turns around, arms falling to his sides.

“It’s not—I don’t hate you,” Carlos says, tripping over his words. “It’s just—I’m just. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and I don’t know, you seemed like an easy target to take all that anger and frustration on.”

Kendall snorts, shakes his head. “That’s such bullshit,” he says. “You don’t even know me, yet you’re going to blame all your problems on me?”

“I’m not blaming anything on you!” Carlos exclaims, throwing his hands out to the side.

“Okay, fine, you’re not blaming it on me, but you’re taking it out on me, not much of a difference there,” Kendall says, hurt and angered that someone he doesn’t even know could see him as such a good target for all their frustrations. Because he totally didn’t have enough on his plate to fucking begin with.

“You’re right, and that was shitty of me,” Carlos says, frowning. “There’s nothing I can do to change what’s already been done, but I’d like to try and change things now.”

_Why should I believe you?_ Kendall doesn’t ask, though the words are itching to escape his throat, to pierce the air. He’s so sick of being hurt and kicked around.

“Yeah, okay,” Kendall says, the fight leaving him in one deep exhalation. What’s the point? It’s not going to get him anywhere. He’ll stick to his guns, get through this night and the rest of filming and that’ll be that. So Carlos won’t be looking at him like he’s trying to kill him, whatever. One less thing he has to worry about, he supposes. It’s not like it’ll really change anything, anyway.

“You guys coming out?” James asks, voice trailing down the hall to the front door where they’re still standing. “Carlos? Kendall?”

“Be right there,” Kendall calls out, heading back to the kitchen, not bothering to look behind to see if Carlos is following.

\--

All jokes aside, James is pretty damn fantastic at grilling. The burgers are done just the way he likes them, the steaks perfectly tender, and the salad James asked Logan to prepare is fresh and crisp, the food filling his belly until Kendall’s so stuffed he can barely move.

At least until conversation tapers off and James and Logan start making eyes at each other. He feels more than awkward, an unwanted third wheel even though Carlos is sitting beside him, and it’s nothing he wants to sit around and witness.

“I’m just gonna—“ Kendall gestures in the direction of the beach just behind James’ house, eyeing the wooden staircase that leads down to the sand.

“I think I’ll join you,” Carlos says suddenly, jumping up out of his seat. From the looks of it, the table could be flipped over and neither James nor Logan would even notice.

Kendall quickly descends the stairs, shaking his head. At least he doesn’t have to wonder what’s going on there anymore.

Good for Logan, Kendall decides. James seems like a nice enough guy, from how little Kendall knows him, anyway. If they can jump into a relationship or whatever it is that’s between them when they’re in the middle of filming a fricken skin flick, they’ll probably be okay in the long run.

It fills him with an intense longing, though, the way everyone around him is pairing up, getting together, when Kendall can’t keep a relationship of his own.

“Hey,” Carlos says, jogging to catch up. “You okay? You took off pretty quick.”

“Uh, yeah,” Kendall says, slowing his pace. “Just didn’t want to interfere or get in their way or whatever.”

“Oh, yeah, makes sense,” Carlos says, kicking up clouds of sand as they walk along the shoreline, the sun just beginning to set.

It’s quiet and peaceful out here, the waves calmly lapping at the shore, the gentle breeze filled with the scent of saltwater. Kendall loves his house, he really does, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything, but the view and the serenity surrounding him make him think twice about that.

The sand in his shoes, however, that’s something he could live without. He stops and plops down onto the sand, pulling off his shoes and tucking his socks into them, then stands back up and continues his walk along the shoreline, Carlos a quiet presence beside him.

He thought he’d feel tense and uncomfortable around him, and he did, still kind of does, truth be told, but he also feels more relaxed than he has in weeks, the tense knots of muscles in his back slowly loosening.

Until Carlos opens his mouth, that is.

“Why porn?” he asks suddenly, voice surprisingly interested. “I mean, there are a million other things you could’ve done with your life. Why settle for porn?”

Kendall chews at his bottom lip, wondering if he should tell Carlos the truth, if being open and honest is the right thing to do. “Needed the money,” he says, deciding to be partly truthful.

“And there wasn’t anything else you could do?” Carlos asks, delving deeper than Kendall would have liked him to.

“Not for the kind of money I needed, no,” Kendall replies, shaking his head.

“The pay couldn’t have been that great in the beginning, though,” Carlos points out. “How would that have been any different from working a minimum wage job somewhere else?”

“I was already in too far when I realized that,” Kendall says, anger and frustration welling up inside him at his stupid mistake being brought up again.

“You ever think about getting out, doing something else?” Carlos asks, taking the hint that Kendall’s past is off-limits.

“Doesn’t every pornstar?” Kendall counters. “I doubt you’d find many people wanting to do this for the rest of their lives. It’s just a layover on getting to where they really want to be.”

“Where do you really want to be?” Carlos asks softly, barely audible over the sound of the waves and wind.

“I dunno,” Kendall says, shrugging. He’s thought about it so many times over the years, but he’s never really settled on any one thing.

“You’ll figure it out eventually,” Carlos says, sounding more optimistic about Kendall’s future than Kendall has ever felt.

Conversation tapers off again, and they amble down the stretch of the beach, turning around and walking back the way they came when they can’t see James’ house anymore.

“This was nice,” Carlos says as they approach the gate that leads to the staircase connected to James’ house, hands tucked into his pockets. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Uh,” Kendall pauses briefly, surprised at the complete turnaround, and finds himself saying yes.

Carlos’ answering smile is ridiculously bright, the setting sun behind him casting a halo around his head, bathing him in pinks and oranges and reds, and Kendall isn’t ashamed to admit that his knees get a little weak, having the full-force of that smile aimed at him.

He forces a cough to distract himself, offering up a smile he hopes is believable enough, hoping his face isn’t as flushed as he fears it might be.

He lets Carlos in through the gate first, following behind him as they ascend the stairs. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t keep his eyes off Carlos’ ass, his thighs, a groan fighting its way out of his mouth at the thought of the sheer power and firmness of the muscles.

James and Logan being absent from where they left them gives him something else to focus on, however.

“Well alright, then,” Carlos says, eyes roaming over the tipped over chairs and the plates still left on the table. “Guess that’s probably our cue to leave.”

Kendall snorts out a laugh. “Guess so.”

They quickly make their way back inside, down the hall that leads to the front door, moving as fast as they can so they won’t hear anything they shouldn’t be hearing.

“We’ll plan something tomorrow,” Carlos says, retrieving his keys from his pocket.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Kendall replies, nodding.

“I should probably go first, since I have the passcode to open the security gate,” Carlos says, rocking on the balls of his feet.

Kendall nods again, feels like a fucking bobblehead with all the nodding he’s doing.

“Have a goodnight,” Carlos says, disappearing into his car, the door closing quietly behind him.

“Yeah, you, too,” Kendall says, even though Carlos won’t hear. He unlocks his own door and climbs into his SUV, starting it up and waiting for Carlos to drive down first.

Carlos turns left out of the driveway and Kendall turns right, music playing softly in the background as he tries to figure out when he ended up in Bizarro World.

\--

The next two days of filming pass quickly, everything running smooth as silk now that everyone’s found their groove. It helps that there’s almost no awkwardness or hostility on-set now, a feeling of camaraderie taking its place.

Whatever it is that’s going on between James and Logan is hidden well enough, buried under a mask of strictly business. Carlos hasn’t left the set once, not even during the sporadic breaks, and he eats lunch with Kendall and Logan, and James, too, a blanket set out on the grassy area near where they’re filming an outdoor scene.

The last shot of the day on Friday is the meet-up scene, where Kendall and Logan happen to stumble across each other. It’s kind of corny, if Kendall’s being honest, feels like something that belongs in a chick flick and not a porno, but it works.

“Cut and print!” Carlos shouts, and Kendall lets his character melt away, rolling his shoulders before he bumps his fist against Logan’s. “That’s a wrap for the day!”

The time it takes to film a scene now feels like almost nothing, very few interruptions coming from Carlos or the sound guys, and the takes have dwindled down from double-digits to just a handful, cameras set up all around to get all the coverage with as few takes as possible.

“You doing anything tonight?” Logan asks, falling into step beside Kendall as they walk back to their dressing rooms.

“Um, I dunno,” Kendall says, shrugging. “I’ll probably call Katelyn, see what she’s up to. Haven’t had a chance to talk to her much the last few days.”

“I think Erin mentioned them having a date tonight,” Logan says. “I guess things are going really well between them.”

“Oh,” Kendall says, feeling a little put out that Logan knows more about his best friend than he does. “I’ll definitely have to call her this weekend, get the scoop on how things are going.”

“You should come out with me and James tonight,” Logan suggests, leaning against the doorframe to his dressing room.

“Oh, hey, now that you’ve mentioned it,” Kendall says, a smile crossing his lips. “What _is_ going on between the two of you?”

Logan blushes, bites his bottom lip, head turned down. “Just—y’know.” He shrugs and looks up, eyes darting around nervously. “I like him, he likes me, so, y’know.”

“Dude, it’s cool,” Kendall says, deciding to let it go and put Logan out of his misery. “Just thought I’d tease you a little about it.”

“Man, sometimes you’re a jerk,” Logan says, shaking his head, but he’s laughing softly, taking the sting out of the words.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kendall says, “whatever. You guys have fun tonight, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks and turns around, heads to his own dressing room as fast as he can, holding in the laughter at the sound of Logan’s indignant squawk of protest until the door is shut and he can let it out, holding his belly as he laughs and laughs.

It’s so ridiculously easy to rile him up and get him going, and Kendall really just can’t resist sometimes.

Logan’s already gone by the time Kendall finishes changing, but Carlos is standing there, leaning against the wall across from where Kendall’s standing, one foot crossed over the other, Kendall’s eyes drawn to the way his thighs are so fucking thick that the fabric of his jeans looks ridiculously tight stretched around them.

“Uh, what’s up?” Kendall asks hesitantly after clearing his throat, hoping his face isn’t as flushed as he thinks it might be.

“What are you doing tonight?” Carlos asks, the complete epitome of nonchalance, the exact opposite of the confusion and nervousness Kendall’s feeling.

“Nothing, apparently,” Kendall says. “Seems everyone’s got a date tonight.” From the frown crossing Carlos’ lips, it’s clear he wasn’t able to keep the dislike he feels about that out of his voice.

“Oh. Well, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something, but—“ Carlos trails off, letting the invitation hang there.

“No, yeah, that’d be cool,” Kendall says quickly, a little too eager for his liking.

Carlos doesn’t mention it, though, motions Kendall to follow him, and he sits in Carlos’ office while he waits for Carlos to finish whatever it is he’s doing, filing papers away and organizing everything until he stands and declares that he’s finished.

\--

Carlos drives behind Kendall to his house, parking beside Kendall’s car in the driveway.

“Nice place,” Carlos says, eyeing it appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Kendall says, and leads them inside, disabling the security system after he opens the door.

They settle in the living room, and Kendall hands over the remote, letting Carlos flip through the channels before settling on a movie.

Here, in his house, it’s not as easy or as laidback as it was at the studio, or even walking along the beach at James’ house. It feels awkward, a stifling sort of tension settling over them that Kendall isn’t quite sure how to dispel.

He’s certain this was a mistake, bringing Carlos to his house, should’ve just turned him down and made up some lie about his plans, but then Carlos suggests a video game, going straight for Mario Kart, and all the awkwardness is gone, replaced with playful shoves and good natured name calling.

Chinese gets ordered and eaten during a brief break in game playing, but then they’re right back at it, in each other’s space as they try to beat the other.

It’s so easy for Kendall to get caught up in it, to imagine that this is something that happens all the time, that this is a house they share, a way to wind down after a stressful day of work, and he chastises himself immediately for those thoughts, for imagining that he could have something as easy as this.

Yeah, Carlos is great and awesome now that he’s not being an asshole, and he’s plenty attractive, and maybe, _maybe_ he returns the feelings Kendall denies feeling himself, but that doesn’t mean anything. All of his other relationships started out promising, too, but they all went south pretty damn fast.

He doesn’t need a repeat of those relationships, but it’s so much easier to tell himself that than it is to stop hoping for something more, especially when Carlos shows up early the next morning, a bag of food dangling from the tips of his fingers, happily proclaiming that he’s going to make breakfast.

Kendall rubs sleepily at his eyes, opening the door wider to let Carlos in. “Kitchen’s yours, I’m gonna shower,” he says, and stumbles back up the stairs, eyes closing as he falls facedown onto his bed, muted sounds of pots and pans banging around in the kitchen following him to sleep.

\--

“Dude, wake up.”

Kendall groans and shakes his head, pulling his blanket over his head.

“Kendall, wake up.”

Kendall cracks open an eye and eases the blanket down, peering up at the sleep blurry shape of Carlos standing beside his bed.

“Food’s getting cold,” Carlos says, and yanks the blanket away, disappearing without another word.

Kendall curses under his breath and sits up, rubbing his hands over his face as he climbs out of bed, dragging his feet across the floor to the bathroom. He empties his bladder then flushes the toilet, washes his hands before splashing water onto his face. He quickly brushes his teeth and dries his hands and his face, slipping back into his room to tug on a clean t-shirt before he finally goes downstairs, the smell of whatever Carlos cooked making his stomach grumble.

Kendall’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees the sheer amount of food spread out over the countertop. He’d expected scrambled eggs, pancakes, maybe, but what sits there is so much more. There’s a plate of waffles, a bowl of fresh fruit, what looks to be an egg white omelet, hash browns, over-easy eggs, a plate of toast, a mug of steaming coffee, a glass of orange juice, and a glass of milk.

He heads straight for the coffee, blowing a breath of cool air over the surface before he takes a hearty swallow, once again surprised, this time at the perfect taste of it, brewed and prepared exactly how he likes it.

“You really didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” Kendall says as the coffee works its way through his veins, waking him up a little at a time.

Carlos blushes, shrugs. “It wasn’t so bad, really. I love cooking.”

“This is a lot of food, though,” Kendall points out. “I probably won’t even eat half of it.”

“And what about me?” Carlos asks, brow quirked. “What am I supposed to eat?”

“I’m sure there’s a box of cereal in a cupboard somewhere,” Kendall says, straight-faced, until Carlos’ mouth drops open and his eyebrows rise comically high on his forehead. “Obviously you’re going to eat some of this,” he says, laughing and shaking his head.

“That’s what I thought,” Carlos says, and sticks out his tongue. “Everything is fresh and organic, and the waffles are whole wheat.”

Kendall feels his chest tighten, his breathing suddenly rough and shallow. He’d mentioned his love for organic and natural foods to Logan once, when they were picking through the food catered to them on-set, and either Carlos asked Logan about it, or Carlos overheard it himself—which, Kendall wasn’t even aware he was anywhere around at the time—and remembered when he made the decision to cook breakfast for Kendall, but either way, it warms Kendall straight down to his toes, makes his heart beat a tattoo rhythm in his chest, the unexpected kindness Carlos has displayed, something none of his previous boyfriends had ever bothered to do.

He needs to get out of here, needs to get away before he does something stupid, like push Carlos against the countertop and kiss him stupid, but he can’t, doesn’t want to come off as rude or unappreciative, especially when Carlos clearly went through so much to prepare all this food for him, regardless of what he said and how easily he brushed it off.

So, Kendall clears his throat and murmurs his thanks, grabbing the plate of waffles and chowing down, ignoring the way his heart has yet to slow, or the traitorous thoughts churning in his head.

\--

Carlos ends up sticking around for the better part of the day, washing all the dishes he dirtied and putting them away where he found them, then following Kendall around while he goes through his usual weekend routine: cleaning out the snake’s case, cleaning out the turtle’s terrarium, taking the turtle with him out into the backyard while he spruced up the garden, pulling up weeds and trimming the hedges.

“This is what you do on the weekends?” Carlos asks, sitting in the grass with his legs folded, fingers inching closer and closer to where the turtle is slowly moving along.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Kendall says, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with his forearm. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Carlos says, and shrugs. “Guess I just expected something, I dunno, more?”

“What, like an all weekend party of booze and orgies?” Kendall snaps out, frowning, slow burn of anger trickling through his veins.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant at all,” Carlos says quickly. “I just expected something a little more…glamorous.”

“Glamorous?” Kendall asks, snorting out a laugh. “I’m a porn star, dude, not some A-list actor.”

“Whatever, dude,” Carlos says, throwing a clump of grass at Kendall’s back.

“Dude! Not my grass!”

Carlos throws another handful at him, and it turns into an all-out war, and by the time they’re done, there are bald patches all over the lawn, blades of grass sticking in Kendall’s hair and all over his sweat-soaked arms and forehead, not a single speck of green to be found anywhere on Carlos.

“I win!” Carlos crows, arms thrown up in triumph.

“Only ‘cause I let you,” Kendall says, brushing his arms and hair clean. “Man, I need a shower.”

“I should get going, anyhow,” Carlos says, and Kendall can’t help the bite of disappointment he feels at that. “Important director crap and all that jazz.”

“Yeah, of course,” Kendall says, and stoops down to pick up his turtle. “I’ll show you out.”

“Nah, that’s alright. You go put your turtle away and shower. I’ll see you later.” Carlos disappears with a wave, following the stone path that winds around to the front of the house.

The rest of the afternoon is one big ball of disappointment and loneliness, now that Kendall knows just how soothing and relaxing it is to have someone he's interested in around while he goes about his boring tasks. Yeah, it's fun when Katelyn's around on the weekends, but with Carlos, it's so different. For one, he's not at all interested in getting into Katelyn's pants—ew, ew, ew—and for two, Carlos fills that gaping emptiness inside him, loathe as he is to admit it.

His previous boyfriends never understood why he was so concerned with eating natural and organic foods, or why he felt the need to plant and maintain a garden, always like "can't you just hire someone to do that for you?" Yeah, he could have, but there's something calming and stress-relieving and prideful about doing it on his own. Carlos seemed to understand that without Kendall having to say so, seemingly content to sit there and watch without the need to constantly ask questions or talk to fill the silence.

Kendall wants, now more than ever, more than he wants himself to want, a relationship, a relationship with Carlos, and goddamn does he feel that little ball of hope blossom into something bigger when he thinks that yeah, maybe Carlos does, too.

\--

The remainder of the weekend and the next week of filming seem to fly by, a flurry of emotions that are his and aren't his tangling up inside him. It's easier for him to slip into his character now, feeling the rush of warmth at being wanted, and Logan's so easy to act opposite of. The scenes are shot and filmed easy as pie, breaks and get-togethers after filled with James' and Carlos' praise.

Kendall hates that just when he's really starting to enjoy himself, filming is just about to end. They've got all the buildup and date scenes filled, and all that's left is the big culmination of it all, Kendall's and Logan's characters finally coming together as one.

James and Carlos are hosting a pre-wrap dinner at one of the swankier restaurants in L.A., and Kendall's stomach is twisted in knots. With filming just about done, he figures this is maybe one of the few chances he's going to get to spend time with Carlos again, and he wants to take a shot while he still has it. Sure, there's the possibility he'll see Carlos after filming is completed, they're friends now, he thinks, but friend is such a fickle term anywhere in the business and while they might be friends now that they're still in production, who's to say things will remain that way after?

Kendall sighs and shakes his head. Time to get dressed.

He dons his best slacks, black and tight in all the right places; a freshly dry cleaned white button-down tucked in; and a black, slim tie with subtle green accents. He slicks his hair back and sprays himself with cologne, gives himself a thorough onceover in the mirror before he declares himself ready enough, then heads out, reminding himself to breathe the entire drive over.

The backroom that Carlos and James have reserved is already half-full, members of the crew and production team that Kendall’s only met in passing sitting with their partner, talking and laughing over their glasses of wine.

Katelyn and Erin arrive a moment after Kendall, done up in dresses with their make-up done perfectly, their hair piled in curls atop their head. They’re beyond beautiful and they look so good and happy together, Kendall can’t hold back a smile.

“Hey, stranger,” he says, pulling Katelyn into a loose hug. Every time he’s managed to get ahold of her over the last week, she’s been busy, and it hasn’t left much time for them to talk. Kendall’s missed her more than he realized now that she’s standing in front of him.

“Hey,” she says, painted red lips stretched into a smile.

Kendall pulls Erin into a hug, too, kissing her cheek, telling her how great she looks.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Erin says teasingly, throwing Kendall a wink.

James and Logan show up next, clothes visibly out of place, hair disheveled, lips swollen, faces flushed.

“Well, then,” Kendall says, snorting. “Guess we all know what they were up to.”

Katelyn and Erin laugh beside him, wrinkling their nose as James and Logan pass by.

“Before a dinner like this?” Katelyn asks, shaking her head. “Gross.”

Kendall’s reply gets stuck in his throat, confusion and anger warring inside him.

Carlos is walking into the dining area, arm wrapped around the waist of a beautiful woman, her dress short and tight, legs bared and seemingly endless with the heels she’s wearing. There’s no mistaking the possessive look in her eyes, or the hand on his arm staking her claim.

Jesus.

“Who’s that?” Kendall asks, the words pushed out his too tight throat.

“I have no idea,” Erin says, brows knit in confusion.

Seems everyone else is just as out of the loop and confused as Kendall is, judging by the sudden hush that falls over the room.

Carlos and the woman he’s with pay no attention to it, making their way to the head of the large table that’s been set up for them. Kendall’s stomach tightens at the way Carlos pulls out the chair for her, tips of his fingers grazing the bare skin of her shoulder as he moves around the back of it to take his own seat.

Everyone seems to move at once, then, taking their seats, sound exploding and replacing the silence.

Kendall doesn’t want to be here anymore, wants to run as far and as fast as he can, the taste of anger and disappointment thick and bitter on his tongue. He can’t escape, though, not with Katelyn’s hand on his forearm, guiding him to the seat beside her, her eyes a mix of confusion and pity.

It’s obvious from the way Carlos and the woman he’s with are looking at each other that she’s Carlos’ girlfriend. _Girlfriend, fuck_.

It makes him sick, angry, nauseous, the way he let himself think, believe, hope, that there was any chance of him and Carlos being anything other than friends. He told himself time and again to ignore whatever it was he felt, to prevent that flicker of hope from growing, but it all happened anyway, and all he succeeding in doing was setting himself up for failure and disappointment.

The night really can’t go by fast enough, but with the way Kendall’s luck seems to going, it drags on and on, almost endless. He picks at the foods he ordered, not really tasting any of it, and whenever he’s pulled into a conversation, his answers are short and quiet, no substance to any of it.

He makes his excuse to leave after a couple hours have passed and the night shows no signs of ending, citing an appointment early the next morning. It’s not an outright lie; he does have a waxing appointment, but it’s not until later in the day. He just can’t stomach being around all these people, laughing and smiling when Kendall feels like his heart’s been ripped out and thrown in a blender.

Katelyn stops him before he can get outside, her hand soft and gentle against his back. “You okay?” she asks, concern written clearly across her face.

Kendall shrugs. “Sure.”

Katelyn pulls him into a hug, head resting against his shoulder, and he draws strength from it, knowing that no matter what, she’ll always be there for him.

“Get back in there,” Kendall says, pulling away from her. “Don’t let me ruin your night.”

“You’re not ruining anything, Kendall,” Katelyn says, looking torn, like half of her wants to go back into that room and take her seat beside Erin, the other half of her wanting to leave with Kendall, provide comfort or whatever it is Kendall needs.

“Erin’s probably waiting on you, wondering where you disappeared off to,” Kendall says, trying his best for a smile.

“You’ll call me later, right?” Katelyn asks.

“Tomorrow,” Kendall says. “Don’t wanna interrupt your night with Erin.” He wiggles his eyebrows, taking a brief moment of pleasure in the way Katelyn’s face flames.

Katelyn gives him another hug and presses a kiss to his cheek before she turns around and heads back into the reserved dining area. Kendall lets his shoulders drop, all his breath escaping in a heavy sigh.

This night is nowhere near how he imagined it would be.

_Well_ , Kendall tells himself, _that’s what you get for hoping and imagining_.

\--

Kendall doesn’t answer his phone, doesn’t leave his house except for his waxing appointment, holes himself up in his room under his blankets, shutoff from the world outside. He doesn’t want to get up, doesn’t want to talk to anyone, doesn’t want to do anything but wallow in self-pity.

Unfortunately for him, Katelyn has a key to his house and the code for his security alarm.

“What’re you doing here?” Kendall asks when he feels her weight settle beside him.

“You said you’d call, but you didn’t, so I tried calling you, but your phone kept going straight to voicemail.”

Kendall sighs but doesn’t say anything. He doubts it’ll happen, but maybe she’ll get the hint that he doesn’t want to talk.

“You gonna talk to me?” Katelyn asks, her voice soft and soothing.

“What’s there to talk about?” Kendall asks.

“Why you’re hiding from the world,” Katelyn replies immediately. “You weren’t this upset when your last few relationships went bad. You drank, you bitched, you got over it. What’s so different this time?”

“Because I thought this time would be different,” Kendall says, forcing himself to stay calm. “He acted like he was really interested, like he cared in a way none of the others did. I felt like I mattered to him, the way he went out of his way to do things for me that I wasn’t even aware he knew about.”

“And now you find out he has a girlfriend and, what, you think that mean he doesn’t care about you still?”

“No, that’s not—I know he cares, okay, I do, but he made it seem like it was more, the way he just seemed to understand me without me having to actually explain why I liked all the things I did, the way he…I don’t know how to explain it. Just—I just thought he felt more than he did. Stupid of me, really.”

“Maybe he did,” Katelyn says, “maybe he does. Just because he has a girlfriend doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel those things.”

“No,” Kendall says vehemently. “Stop, Katelyn, please. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, but I really don’t want to hear those things right now. It’s done. He has a girlfriend, and I’m not going to get in the way of that. I’m just going to finish up filming on Monday and that’ll be that. Time to move on.”

“Okay,” Katelyn says, voice so soft Kendall has to strain to hear it. “Well, I’ve got ice cream melting on the counter downstairs. Gonna come help me eat it?”

Kendall heaves out a sigh. “If I must.”

\--

Katelyn stays until late, watching every stupid movie Kendall finds even remotely funny, only leaving when Kendall promises he’ll call her tomorrow.

After she leaves, Kendall retreats back into his bedroom, falling back onto his bed, hands folded on his stomach.

Maybe he’s making this a bigger deal than it is. It’s not like he and Carlos were dating or anything, or that Carlos had explicitly said he was interested in Kendall as anything other than friends. It’s like he’s being a middle school girl, crushed and broken hearted because the boy she had a crush on ended up with someone else, only difference is that he’s not a girl, not a pre-teen, and has had his own fair share of real heartbreak.

Regardless of all that, his heart still hurts, he still feels crushed, betrayed, disappointed, let down, and no amount of telling himself that he’s being foolish is making it go away.

So maybe he did build something out of nothing, created and imagined things that really weren’t there. He surely isn’t the first, and certainly won’t be the last. Katelyn had said that maybe the reason Carlos was being so cold and distant with him was because he was harboring some kind of feelings for him. If he did in fact create something out of nothing, he isn’t alone in that.

There’s an aching throb in his chest, a prickling behind his eyes, and he fights to breathe through it, to push it all away, pretend it’s not there, because he’s been through so much worse than this. If he can get through all that and come out the other side all the better for it, there’s no reason something as trivial as a barely even possible relationship.

\--

Kendall sleeps straight through Sunday morning, well into the afternoon hours. His phone is off, shoved in a dresser drawer so he won’t be tempted to take it out and make a call or send a text that would do more harm than good, and so no one would attempt to call and pull him out of bed.

He didn’t even think about someone pounding on his door, though, which is what he wakes up to: the relentless banging of a fist that quickens the longer there isn’t an answer.

Apparently turning his phone off wasn’t enough of a message that he wanted to be left alone.

Kendall grumbles and climbs out of bed, throwing on last night’s shirt as he descends the stairs. The last person he expected or wanted to see is standing at his front door, fist poised to resume the heavy knocking.

“What’re you doing here?” Kendall asks, white-knuckling the doorknob. He’s barely managing to keep his anger in check, and he’s pretty sure if Carlos doesn’t just turn around and leave, he’s going to explode with it.

“Can I come in?” Carlos asks, finally lowering his hand.

Kendall sighs, wants to say no, wants to tell Carlos where he can really go, but he doesn’t, just steps out of the way and opens the door wider, allowing Carlos to enter.

“You look okay,” Carlos says, eyes roving over Kendall in a way that makes him a little more than uncomfortable, considering the circumstances.

“I guess?” Kendall isn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“It’s just—you left kind of suddenly Friday and I tried calling, but you didn’t answer, so I thought you were sick or something, and I figured I’d drop by just to make sure you were okay,” Carlos explains, smiling sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” Kendall says shortly, exhausted despite all the hours he’s slept. He ambles into the living room, knowing without having to turn around that Carlos is following behind him, and drops down onto the sofa, resting his head in his hands.

“You sure you’re okay?” Carlos asks, concern heavily coloring his voice.

“What are you doing here, Carlos?” Kendall asks, dropping his hands and lifting his head.

Carlos’ brows crease in confusion. “I told you—“

“No,” Kendall says, shaking his head. “What are you really doing here?”

“I don’t—I don’t understand.” Carlos looks even more confused, an uncertain look on his face.

“That girl you were with Friday, she your girlfriend?” Kendall asks, rising to his feet, the urge to fight surging up within him.

“Yeah, but. What does she have to do with anything?”

Kendall snorts out a disbelieving laugh. “She has everything to do with this, man.”

“I’m still not following,” Carlos says, arms crossed over his chest.

“See,” Kendall says, licking his lips and taking a breath before he continues, “this entire time, I thought you were gay. I mean, pretty sure everyone else did, too. For all I know, you could be bisexual. You’d at least have to have some kind of interest in dick to be shooting gay porn, but then you show up with your girlfriend, surprising the hell out of everyone.”

“Is that what made you leave?” Carlos asks in disbelief.

“Partly, yeah,” Kendall says, figuring he might as well be honest about that with all the other shit he’s throwing out there. “See, I had this foolish notion that with all the time we’d been spending together, the way you seemed to go out of your way to do things for me that seemed a little more than friendly, that maybe you were interested in me, that you had some kind of feelings for me, and then you showed up with a girlfriend, and, yeah, I was upset and confused, so I left.”

“I’m not—“ Carlos pauses and takes a deep breath, like he’s gathering all the strength known to man in that lungful, then says, “I’m not gay.”

Kendall feels a jolt of shock run through him. Oh, god. The minute flicker of disgust in Carlos’ eyes, the way he said gay as though it’s something that shouldn’t be said out loud, fuck. He’s either so far in the closet he’s in Narnia, or he’s vehemently denying what he is to himself, to everyone around him. Kendall isn’t sure which is worse.

“You sure you’re not?” Kendall asks, voice low and menacing. “The sight of two guys fucking doesn’t get you all hot and bothered? That why you left the set every time we filmed a scene that was even remotely sexual? Did you go back to your office and picture it in your head, jerk off to what we were doing out there, wishing it was you?” Kendall knows he’s being a huge dick, but now that he’s started he can’t stop, can’t make his mouth stop moving, the words falling from his lips painful and biting like barbed wire.

“Stop,” Carlos says, backing away and shaking his head.

“Why?” Kendall asks, arms thrown out to the side. “Can’t face the truth? Can’t own up to the fact that despite what you’ve been telling yourself, you really are gay?”

“I’m not,” Carlos whispers, eyes wide and wet. “Not anymore. I can’t be.”

“Not anymore?” Kendall asks. “There is no ‘anymore’, Carlos. There’s always or never.”

“Yes, there is!” Carlos shouts, hands balled into fists at his side. “There is because I was cured, okay? I was cured and I’m not _that_ anymore.”

“Cured?” Kendall says, spitting the word out like it’s vile, trash. “There is no being cured. We are what we are, and there’s no changing that.”

“There is, too,” Carlos says, strong and sure despite the way his voice is shaking. “I was cured when I was 16. My parents had me cured because what I was? It was a disease. I was sick and wrong and dirty, but I’m not anymore, okay? You don’t know anything, Kendall, so don’t act like you do.”

Kendall doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’s so angry on Carlos’ behalf, angry that his family made him believe something so fucking stupid and wrong, angry that they had Carlos shipped off to god knows where to have god knows what done to him, to trick him into believing he was fixed, that he was a good, straight boy, clean and pure and wholesome in a way he wasn’t when they found out he was gay.

What makes absolutely zero sense to Kendall is the fact that if Carlos is straight the way he seems to think he is, why in the world does he own a company that produces gay porn?

“I don’t,” Carlos says, shaking his head. “We film indie movies and straight porn.”

“Then why the fuck did you keep filming? Why didn’t you send the film somewhere else?”

“Because it was already too late,” Carlos says. “Everything was signed and set up, and I didn’t know what I had gotten myself into until you showed up.”

“Until I showed up?” Kendall asks, voice chocked full of disbelief. “Did you not read the script or ask James anything about the film?”

“I’ve never had to!” Carlos says. “Everyone I’ve ever worked with knows what and how I film. It’s all off the cuff shots and spur of the moment decisions, whatever I think will look best at the time.”

“And the porn? You’ve never had to sit down and work out angles and logistics?”

“It’s porn, Kendall, not the next fucking Emmy winner or Steven Spielberg film, for crying out loud.”

“So why didn’t you just back out, then, let someone else direct it if what we are is so fucking dirty and depraved and wrong in your eyes?” Kendall asks, venom slipping over and around his words.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” Carlos says, shaking his head and backing out of the room, completely ignoring Kendall’s question. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. You got the wrong idea and that’s not my fault, but that doesn’t give you the right to stand there and preach at me like you’re something fucking special.”

“Don’t walk away from me,” Kendall grits out, jaws clenched so tightly together he can feel the beginnings of a headache taking root at the base of his skull.

“I’m not sticking around for this bullshit, Kendall,” Carlos says, and continues walking backward out of the living room.

“Why?” Kendall asks, unwilling to let it die. “Because you know I’m right? Because you know that you’re not cured? Because you know that the whole curing thing is bullshit? That no matter what you tell yourself and everyone around you, you’re still gay? Hate to break it to you, buddy, but there’s no changing what we are. You can deny it and be ashamed all you want, you can hide behind the reasoning that your parents made you do it, but you’re just as bad and foolish as they are if you believe even for a second that you’re straight now. You can cling to that girlfriend all you want, make yourself believe that you’re sexually attracted to her and that she’s what gets your blood rushing south, but none of that is going to change the fact that you’re gay, and I feel sorry for you that you’re not okay with that.”

“Oh, fuck you, Kendall, you and your holier-than-thou attitude. It must be so nice thinking you’re better than me because you can be okay with who you are, but not all of us are that fucking lucky.”

“Wanna know the saddest part?” Kendall asks, not even waiting for Carlos’ answer. “I could have fallen in love with you. We could’ve had something good, a future I never let myself dream of before, but god, I was so fucking wrong.”

Silence is the only thing that greets his words.

“You need to go now,” Kendall says softly, turning away, ignoring the urge bubbling up inside him to reach out a comforting hand at the way Carlos’ shoulders are shaking, knowing that the blame for it rests on his shoulders?

The front door closes softly after a few moments, and Kendall lets out a heavy sigh, weary right down to his marrow. He knows he was way out of line, crossed from harsh and rude straight into asshole douchebag, but.

Fuck.

He knows without a shadow of a doubt that despite what Carlos said about being cured, he’s not. Being cured doesn’t exist. The reprogramming and reorienting camps can say whatever they want, use whatever sick torture they call therapy, but it doesn’t change what the person is inside. They can try to beat, shock, whip the gay out, but it doesn’t work, will never work.

He could see it, hidden in the scared, brown depths of Carlos’ eyes, the need and longing for someone to accept him, love him, show him that it’s okay to be who he really is, and it tears Kendall apart inside that he had to be so vicious and cruel to bring that out. He’s angry and disgusted with himself for it.

He’s certain, now more than ever, that he wasn’t just imagining things, that somewhere inside, Carlos does—did? Kendall doesn’t even know—have feelings for him, but instead of the relief and happiness he should feel at having his feelings returned, all he feels is sad and alone.

The one thing Kendall still isn’t understanding is what Carlos was thinking when he decided to stay with the filming of James’ script. Was he trying to prove to himself that he _was_ cured, that he’d be able to sit and watch and remain unaffected? Maybe it was something else entirely. Kendall really doesn’t know at this point, and he probably won’t ever figure it out.

Kendall sighs, cursing himself, the situation, the world, for being so fucked up and unaccepting.

If there’s one thing Kendall needs now, that’s booze, and a lot of it. And Katelyn.

He heads back up to his room, tossing aside the rolled up pairs of socks in his drawer to get to his phone, powering it up and wincing at the missed texts and voicemails that appear on the screen. He ignores them all and taps in Katelyn’s number, chewing at his thumbnail as the phone rings.

“He lives,” Katelyn says, way too cheerful for Kendall’s liking.

“Kate,” he says, voice tight and defeated.

“I’ll be right over,” Katelyn says, having dealt with enough of Kendall’s low points to know when a situation is urgent.

Katelyn ends the call and Kendall shuts off his phone again, tossing it on top of his dresser. He drags himself back downstairs to the living room, chewing his nails off and scrubbing his hands through his hair until the sound of the door opening pierces the silence.

Katelyn walks in, a bag in each hand. “Ice cream and alcohol.”

Kendall reaches out for the bag with the alcohol and Katelyn hands it over, settling onto the sofa beside him.

“What happened?” she asks, her voice a soothing balm for Kendall’s aching heart.

“Nasty fight with Carlos,” Kendall says, and takes a mouthful of whiskey, relishing in the burn as it slides down his throat.

“How nasty are we talking about here?” Katelyn’s voice edges into something less calming and soothing, and Kendall’s certain that by the time he finishes telling her what happened, it’ll be one more person mad at him.

\--

“You’re a real piece of work, Schmidt,” Katelyn says, shaking her head, disgust written clearly all over her face.

“Yeah, I know.” Kendall doesn’t bother arguing with her. What’s the point? He knows exactly how shitty he was, and nothing he says is going to change that.

“Just because you’re all out and proud and your parents were accepting of that doesn’t mean everybody else’s are.” Katelyn stands and paces the length of the room, hands clenched into fists at her side. “Yeah, they drew the line at the porn thing, but your being gay didn’t make them love you any less. Carlos? He didn’t get that. He had his parents telling him how wrong and gross and bad he was, so much so that he believed them, that he allowed them to send him to a fucking reprogramming camp, and you, what? Threw it all in his face and made him go through something just so you could prove to yourself that you weren’t imagining things? Real fucking shitty of you, Schmidt.”

“I know,” Kendall says, wishing the alcohol would just hurry and make him fucking numb already. He’s so sick of feeling all this anger and hatred at himself and he just wants it to go away.

“It doesn’t matter how old Carlos is, or that he lives independently from his parents, he’s always going to be looking for their approval, especially after something like that. Maybe one day things will be different, but you can’t force him into admitting something he isn’t okay with, just to make yourself feel better. I thought you were better than that.” Katelyn turns on her heel and leaves without another word, the door slamming shut behind her.

It’s way less than Kendall feels he deserves.

\--

Kendall barely sleeps at all that night, the broken, shattered, defeated set of Carlos' shoulders there every time he closes his eyes. The alcohol has done nothing to smooth out the jagged edges inside him, has only served to make him more sick and nauseous than he already was, his stomach twisting and rolling unpleasantly.

The light shifts through the slats of the window blinds as the moon crosses the sky, giving way to the sun as the hours trickle by, and Kendall finally gives up on the hope of getting any sleep, pulling himself out of bed and to the shower, water so hot it burns his skin.

The last thing he wants to do today is strip down on camera and fuck, but he has no other choice with it being the last day of filming, a fact that makes him the slightest bit eager to go in, just to have it all done and behind him.

When he gets to the studio, the lot is damn near empty, only a few unfamiliar cars parked around him. He hadn't even been aware of the time until he looks at the clock in the dashboard, barely restraining himself from smacking his head against the steering wheel when he sees it's only 9. He's not due until 10:30.

"Dammit," Kendall curses. He reclines his seat and folds his hands under his head, trying to calm the nerves inside him as cars slowly begin filling the lot, shouted greetings giving him something else to focus on.

When the clock ticks over to 10:30, Kendall raises his seat and takes a deep breath, pushing himself to open the door and get out, but one minute passes, then another, and another, and before he knows it, it's 10:40, and he's scrambling to get inside. Enough people are upset with him as it is, he doesn't need to add to it.

Everyone is standing around, though, when he makes it onto set after rushing through wardrobe and makeup.

"What's up?" Kendall asks, walking up beside Logan.

"Carlos isn't here today, so everything he usually does including all the morning prep is up to James to complete, and he's panicking and scrambling to get it all done before we can film," Logan explains, lips turned down as his eyes follow James' frantic movements.

"Carlos isn't here?" Kendall asks, dread pooling in his stomach. God, what the fuck did he do?

"Nope," Logan says, shrugging. "James said something about Carlos calling him and handing the reins over for the last scene, I guess, I dunno."

Kendall swallows uneasily. That's not what he intended to happen, but apparently his viciousness and cruelty were Carlos' absolute breaking point, and honestly, who could blame him? Kendall doesn’t even want to be around himself right now, but unfortunately for him, there’s just no getting away.

There's no way he's going to make it through the day, of that he's certain.

\--

James finally gets everything set and has everyone take their places, and it's like the first day all over again, the stopping and starting of filming because Kendall can't seem to get his head into what he's supposed to be doing, and it just gets worse from there.

They skip over the buildup—what’s supposed to be a shot of Kendall and Logan stumbling down a barely lit street, unable to keep their hands off each other, stopping every few steps to exhibit the impatient need threatening to overtake them both—and take a fifteen minute break to resituate the cameras, and James makes his way over to Kendall, an unsure look on his face.

“Hey,” he says, pulling Kendall to the side.

Kendall goes willingly, though he’s confused about why James is taking him aside.

“Are you going to be up for filming this?” James asks, shifting from foot to foot.

Kendall almost laughs at the pun, but he can’t find it anywhere in him to be even slightly amused. “Sure,” he says instead.

“Okay, good,” James says, and offers Kendall a smile. Kendall returns it, though judging by the look on James’ face, it barely hits the mark.

\--

Having Logan pressed against him is nothing but a nuisance, a slow simmering burn of agitation instead of arousal, no matter how hard Kendall kisses back, trying to throw himself into it. He can feel it in every inch of his bones, the unwelcoming rigidity of his spine, an unmistakable warning in just about any other situation to back off and give him some space.

That can't happen, not here, not now, and it cranks up that irritation just that little bit more, a disgruntled groan leaving his lips. Filming doesn't stop, however. The sound must've been mistaken for one of pleasure, considering Logan's lips are attached to his neck, tongue wet and rough and wrong.

Kendall shakes his head to dislodge Logan's mouth, earning an angry shout of "Dammit, Kendall. Cut!"

“You okay?” Logan asks, head tilted in and close so he doesn’t have to raise his voice to be heard.

“Fine,” Kendall says, shaking his head, trying to get himself together.

“From the top!” James shouts, and they burn through one take, then another, then another, the atmosphere growing strained and tense every time James has to yell cut.

Kendall should’ve just called in, asked if they could postpone filming until tomorrow instead of wasting all this money and trying everyone’s patience with how off his game he is. His head is such a mess, being on-set is the absolute last place he should be.

“We’re obviously not getting this done today,” James says, throwing his headset down. “Maybe tomorrow we’ll have better luck and everyone will be capable of doing what they’re supposed to.” He levels a glare at Kendall, and Kendall shrugs it off. What’s he supposed to do? Throw a fit, whine about being called out like that in front of everyone? There’d be no point in that, considering everyone knows he’s the cause of them not having even an iota of useable material.

“Seriously, Kendall,” James says, striding up to him, “whatever’s going on with you, don’t bring it to set again tomorrow. I’m not gonna let you screw up another day of filming.”

“Yeah, okay,” Kendall says. “Anything else?”

When James shakes his head, Kendall leaves the set, making his getaway as quickly as he can.

He doesn't want to have to explain to anyone what's wrong, doesn't even want to be around anyone with how disgusted and angry he is with himself.

How was he supposed to slip into a role of someone being given the key to someone else's heart, happiness, with all pain he's caused? Yeah, it might be just a script for an adult film, but everything else has been believable, the feelings palpable, that the final scene deserves his all, something he's completely unable to give right now.

_That why you left the set every time we filmed a scene that was even remotely sexual? Did you go back to your office and picture it in your head, jerk off to what we were doing out there, wishing it was you?_

The words ping-pong back and forth in Kendall’s head, and he barely manages to scramble into the small bathroom off his dressing room, dropping to his knees as bile forces its way up his throat, stinging and burning until his eyes are watering so badly his vision is blurred.

What sick kind of person is he? How could he even say something like that? He’s never been one to be so outright malicious and cruel, not even when Kyle or any of his other boyfriends were so terrible to him.

He needs to make this right, needs to apologize and beg and plead for Carlos’ forgiveness, though he knows he doesn’t deserve even an ounce of it. There’s no way to erase the words he said, no way of making his display of viciousness and callousness go away, and it makes his stomach revolt, his insides doing their damnedest to escape.

When he feels okay enough, he stands and flushes the toilet, rinsing his mouth out and splashing it with cold water.

He knows what he has to do now, even if he might not be welcome.

He quickly changes back into his street clothes, leaving his wardrobe in a pile on the floor, something he’ll probably be chastised for tomorrow when he shows up with it all wrinkled to hell, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He has more important things to worry about.

Kendall moves like he’s on autopilot, the walk to his car passing in a blur of indistinguishable faces. He’s on the road before he knows it, navigating to a place he’s only heard of, a general vicinity the only thing he has to go on.

It feels weird, wrong, that he doesn’t know exactly where Carlos lives when he’s been to both James’ and Logan’s place. Every time they hung out, though, it was always at a bar or a restaurant or Kendall’s house, never Carlos’, something that hadn’t really struck Kendall as odd until now.

He slows his speed as he navigates the area, searching out Carlos’ car. He drives around every block, his hopes of ever finding the place diminishing with each street that turns up empty.

He isn’t deterred, however, doesn’t have even a passing thought about giving up and going home, and he starts searching a little harder, ready to turn onto the next block when he sees it, Carlos’ car parked in the driveway, the license plates with the dark blue CP II signifying that he’s found the right place.

Kendall pulls over and parks at the curb right in front of Carlos’ house, nervous sweat prickling all over. The drive over was easy enough, but getting out of the car, going up to the door and actually facing Carlos? That’s a whole different ballgame.

He tries to focus on and force himself into taking in the sight of Carlos’ house, the modesty of it, small and quaint where he expected something large and grandiose. It would only make sense, considering Carlos owns his own production studio, but there’s none of the winding walkways, large floor-to-ceiling windows, over-manicured lawns with brightly colored flowers. Instead, there’s a simple walkway from the sidewalk to the front door, the path diverting there to lead to the driveway. The grass is green and well cared for, but the trees and bushes are overgrown, in desperate need of a trimming. The house itself is a simple two-story, tan with white shutters on the windows, blemishes on the siding denoting its age.

It’s nothing close to Kendall’s not-so-humble abode, and lightyears away from James’ beachfront property, and Kendall’s surprised to find he likes it better, figures it suits Carlos better than any other house he could have pictured.

“Jesus, enough fucking around,” he chastises himself, focusing on what he came here to do. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, forcing himself to get off the car and up the walkway. It might as well be a marathon for as daunting as it seems.

The ringing of the doorbell is greeted by a loud series of barks, and Kendall forgot for a minute about Carlos’ dog. “Well,” he says to himself, “here’s to hoping I don’t get attacked.”

The barking quiets down, but there’s no opening of the door, and he rings the doorbell again, no intention of leaving until Carlos hears him out.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he says, finger stabbing the doorbell repeatedly, figuring if he does it enough, maybe it’ll annoy Carlos enough until he has no choice but to open the door to tell him to go the fuck away.

“Go away!” comes a shout from within, a bark followed right behind it.

Nope, not going to be that easy.

He rings the doorbell again, smirking when he hears the sound of a lock being turned. The door being open promptly wipes the smirk off his face when he catches sight of Carlos, face half-hidden by the lack of light inside. There’s enough visible, however, to make Kendall’s stomach twist and roll, bile threatening to make another appearance.

“What happened?” Kendall asks, voice barely more than a whisper. He wants to rub his eyes, like maybe they’re playing some kind of trick on him, but no, they’re not; what he’s seeing is real.

Carlos’ face and arms are covered in bruises, and probably his stomach, too, judging by the way he has an arm wrapped tightly around it, every breath he takes making his face twist in pain. He’s still wearing the same clothes he was yesterday, only today they’re wrinkled beyond belief, trails of blood dried and twisted in disgustingly artistic ways.

“Too much to drink,” Carlos says, shrugging his shoulders like it’s nothing, like his entire body isn’t one big fucking bruise.

“I’m not an idiot, so don’t treat me like one,” Kendall says, a little too harshly. “You don’t get hand-shaped bruises from ‘drinking too much’.”

“I’m not treating you like anything, Kendall,” Carlos says, voice so defeated it makes Kendall want to cry.

“Just tell me what happened, please,” Kendall pleads, so close to breaking.

Carlos steps back and shakes his head, the door opening wider. It’s as much of an invitation to come inside as Kendall’s going to get, and he figures whatever talk they’re about to have, it’s best not to be had in public.

Kendall’s almost immediately bowled over by a large dog circling his legs, and he stoops down to scratch between her ears, figuring this is the Sydney he’s heard so much about.

“Sydney, here,” Carlos calls out, and she leaves Kendall immediately, fleeing to Carlos’ side.

Kendall follows them into the living room, standing around awkwardly until he finally decides fuck it, taking a seat at the sofa on the opposite end from Carlos.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Kendall asks, when it becomes clear Carlos isn’t going to be the one to break the silence.

“Why do you care?” Carlos asks, sharp and biting. “You made it pretty damn clear that you didn’t want anything else to do with me.”

“I didn’t mean any of that, okay?” Kendall says, angry and hating himself all over again. “I was angry and upset and I lashed out at you in the worst of ways, and I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I didn’t mean to push you like that, and I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t care about you, because obviously I do, otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Carlos snorts, an ugly sound of disbelief that has Kendall wishing he could do or say something to prove to Carlos how honest he’s being, how sorry he is.

“Please just—please tell me what happened.”

Carlos’ eyes flash fire when he looks over at Kendall, and Kendall sucks in a breath, clearly unprepared for the anger he sees there.

“You wanna know what happened?” Carlos asks, rising to his feet, the movement painful enough to make him grimace, a bead of sweat sliding down from his forehead. “You wanna know how I did wanna be with you, how I realized I hadn’t been cured, how fucking sick it made me that I went through all those different therapies for nothing? Or how I broke up with Alexa and told my parents everything, how sorry I was that the treatments didn’t work, that there was no changing me, that this is who and what I am and always will be? Or maybe you wanna know how my brothers were so fucking disgusted having a fag for a brother that they thought they could beat it out of me?”

Carlos stops and sucks in a breath, tears falling like rain from his eyes, steady and unrelenting, his body starting to shake and tremble with the force of his sobs.

“Or maybe, m-maybe you wanna hear all about how I lost everything, my family, my best friend, all of it, gone.”

Kendall can’t stop his own tears from falling, not anymore, the pain of losing his own family so fucking hard to deal with that the thought that he made that happen to Carlos enough to choke him.

“I’m so sorry,” Kendall chokes out, standing, moving to where Carlos is, trying to pull him into a hug, to offer him any kind of comfort he can.

Carlos lifts his head and there it is again, that flicker of hate and anger and pain, and he pushes Kendall away, shouts, “Get away from me. This is your fault.”

“You didn’t have to do any of that, Carlos,” Kendall says softly, not even bothering to deny his fault. He pushed and pushed and what else was Carlos to do? That doesn’t stop him from saying “You didn’t have to do any of that, Carlos, not because of me.”

Carlos snorts and shakes his head. “Yes, I did, because if I hadn’t, after this film was over, we’d never talk again, and I didn’t want that to happen, didn’t want you to be the one that got away because I was so far in denial, but—“ Carlos pauses, shakes his head again. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway. I don’t think I can do this now. Too much bad shit has happened. Maybe in another life we could’ve been great, but this life? We just weren’t meant to be.”

Kendall swallows around the lump in his throat, words of protest dying before they can even fully form. He can’t ask for more, not when Carlos has already done so much more than he’d have ever asked for.

So, it’s not how Kendall imagined it happening, not how he saw it all playing out, but it is what it is, and he knows there’s no changing that.

He leaves with his heart in pieces, every painful sniffle and sob from Carlos breaking it even more.

Yeah, they could’ve been great, they could’ve had something amazing and special, but that’s just not how his life works, and he hates that he had to pull someone else down with him. Despite it all, he hopes Carlos finds happiness elsewhere, knowing he himself probably never will.


	2. Epilogue: Six Months Later

The film for CP Entertainment ended up being Kendall’s final adult film. It wasn’t until well after filming was done and Kendall was trying to figure out what to do with his life now that it was over that he felt the tug in his bones to slip back into being someone else. James’ script seemed to awaken something in him that longed for slipping into someone else’s mindset, being able to forget about his own life for a little while.

He ended up at a local theater company and took to it like a duck to water.

He’s in the middle of a break now, a stretch of a month where he has nothing to do, no script to memorize, no character to don. It’s been nonstop work the last few months and he loves it, so he’s at a loss as to what to do with all this free time he has on his hands.

It’s how he ended up with Katelyn and Erin at some hip little café, sitting outside at a table covered by a yellow and white striped umbrella.

Sometimes Kendall still expects to feel jealous when he sees Katelyn and Erin together, envious of how well their relationship is going, stronger every day despite their rough beginning. Yeah, sometimes the tiniest bit of jealousy sneaks in, but he ignores it, happy that everything has worked out so well for them, that Katelyn finally has the happiness she’s always deserved.

Kendall’s sipping at his coffee, letting the sounds of Katelyn and Erin talking and laughing float around him, and he almost chokes on his next swallow when he sees him.

Carlos is there, slowly walking up the sidewalk, head tilted down at his phone. Kendall slouches down in his seat, hoping it’ll go unnoticed, but, as is the norm, Katelyn is attuned to his every move and her eyebrows rise in question.

Kendall shakes his head, silently telling her that it’s nothing, but Erin’s eyes widen as she catches up on what’s going on.

“You gonna go talk to him?” she asks, head tilted to the side.

“Talk to who?” Katelyn asks, looking around, trying to find who they’re talking about.

“Carlos,” Erin says, discreetly pointing him out.

“That’s him?” she asks, looking back and forth between him and Kendall. “He’s cute.”

Kendall nods his agreement, because yeah, Carlos is cute, but he’s also so much more than that.

“Hey, Carlos!” Erin shouts, when it becomes obvious Kendall really isn’t going to talk to him.

Carlos’ head jerks up and his eyes go comically wide as they land on the table they’re seated at. He slowly makes his way over, every step colored with hesitance until he’s standing right there, so close Kendall could reach out and touch if he wanted to. Which he does. God, does he ever. But he can’t. Won’t.

“Hey, guys,” Carlos says, smiling politely. “What are you all up to?”

“Just enjoying this beautiful day, you?” Erin asks, pleased as all get out to converse with him.

“I was on my way to a meeting, actually,” Carlos says. “Figured since it was such a nice day, I’d walk.”

“Aw, man,” Erin says, pouting. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to join us, but I don’t want to make you late.”

“Yeah,” Carlos says, frowning, like he’s not sure he’d even be allowed. “Maybe next time.”

“You should call,” Erin says, “and we’ll catch up, go for coffee or something.”

“Yeah, of course,” Carlos says. “It was nice seeing you guys.” He gives a short wave and takes off without another word.

“Seriously, Kendall?” Erin says between clenched teeth.

“What?” Kendall asks, confused. What has he done now to piss her off?

“You’re just going to let him walk away?”

Kendall shrugs.

“Kendall Schmidt, I swear to god, if you do not get off that ridiculous thing you call an ass, I’m going to punch you in the throat,” Katelyn says, low and threatening. “Don’t even try to lie and say you don’t still feel something for him. I know you, and that look in your eyes says it all.”

“I don’t want to ruin his life again,” Kendall says in a whisper.

“Oh, honey,” Katelyn says, soft and caring, shaking her head. “Yeah, you might’ve fucked up before, but that was then, and this is now. If you still feel anything for him, and don’t lie to me, I know you do, you will get up and you will try again.”

“What she said,” Erin says, leaning in and placing a smacking kiss to Katelyn’s cheek, radiating pride at her girlfriend’s words.

“Okay,” Kendall says, blowing out a breath. “Okay.” He steels his nerves as he stands, looking around for any sign of Carlos. When he doesn’t see him anywhere, his stomach drops to his feet, thinking that he waited too long.

“He went that way,” Katelyn says, pointing in the direction over her shoulder.

Kendall nods and swallows, takes off in that direction, strides long and purposeful. He’s about to break out into a jog when he spots Carlos a few feet in front of him, walking slow and leisurely, as though he has all the time in the world to get to wherever he’s going.

Kendall picks up his pace, walking a little faster now that he has Carlos in his sights. He approaches cautiously, nerves drying out his mouth and making his palms sweat. “Hey,” he says, clearing his throat and swallowing repeatedly to get rid of the sticky, dry feeling.

Carlos stops abruptly and turns to face Kendall, eyes wide as saucers. “H-hey,” he echoes, the trembling of his voice giving away just how nervous he is, despite the way he’s trying to force a calm and collected façade. 

“You can tell me to leave and I’ll go,” Kendall says quickly, hands held up in front of him, “but I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” He pauses and takes a breath, words a jumbled mess as he tries to sort out what he wants to say. “It felt kind of like a sign, y’know, if you believe in that kind of thing.”

Carlos smiles, quite obviously humoring him, but makes no move to run or speak.

“So, okay, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight?” Kendall asks, nervous and hopeful and so fucking scared Carlos is going to say no, that he never wants to see him again.

“Does 7:00 work?” Carlos asks, biting his bottom lip, shifting from foot to foot.

“What?” Kendall shakes his head, unsure if he heard right, but Carlos is still smiling at him, and he knows that he didn’t hear wrong. “Yeah, 7:00 is great.”

“I’ll see you then,” Carlos says, waving and backing away before he turns and walks out of sight.

Kendall damn near sprints back to the café, heart beating a mile a minute.

“So?” Katelyn asks, when Kendall drops back down into his seat. “How’d it go?” She’s bouncing around in her seat like she can’t hold back her excitement, and Kendall wouldn’t even be surprised if she started clapping.

He shrugs his shoulders, trying to play it off. “Okay, I guess.”

“Just okay?” Erin asks, and places a hand on Katelyn’s forearm to get her to stay still.

“Yeah,” Kendall says, and shrugs again. “We’re having dinner tonight.”

“You little shit,” Katelyn says, and Kendall’s almost positive that if Erin’s hand weren’t on Katelyn’s forearm, Katelyn would be across the table, smacking him in the back of his head.

“That’s awesome, Kendall,” Erin says, and a moment later, Katelyn echoes her words.

Kendall nods, and then it hits him. “Oh, god,” he says, panicking. “We’re having dinner tonight.”

\--

Katelyn and Erin laughed when Kendall left in a panic, but the enormity of the situation had only just hit him. He wasn’t really expecting Carlos to say yes, and it didn’t fully sink in until he was back at the table with the girls. He’s totally allowed a moment of panic, whatever.

Kendall spends the entirety of the afternoon cleaning, dusting, wiping down every surface, cleaning the windows, vacuuming and mopping, until not even a speck of dirt can be seen.

He showers and throws on a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt, not wanting to take the chance of food stains while he’s cooking.

He’s decided on spaghetti with homemade sauce, tomatoes and herbs fresh from his garden. There’s just enough time to get it started so it’ll be finished by the time Carlos arrives.

There isn’t much to do once Kendall gets everything thrown into the pot, the sauce simmering away on the stove. It leaves him with too much time to think about how badly tonight could go, all the ways he could fuck it up. Carlos agreed to dinner, nothing beyond that, and the uncertainty of it all makes it all the more important that everything goes as smoothly as it can.

Fifteen minutes before 7:00, Kendall sets the water to boil for the spaghetti and darts up to his room, changing into a pair of jeans and a white v-neck, a plaid shirt over it. He fixes his hair into something a little more presentable, takes a deep breath, then goes back to the kitchen, groaning when he realizes that yeah, he put the pan of water on the stove, but neglected to turn it on.

“Good going, dumbass,” he tells himself, shaking his head. Just as he turns the heat on, the doorbell rings, and Kendall’s heart jumps to his throat. He reminds himself to breathe repeatedly as he opens the door, lips lifting into an easy smile at the sight of Carlos standing there, looking as nervous and unsure as Kendall feels.

“Come in,” Kendall says, and opens the door wider.

Carlos presents him with a bottle of red wine, smiling sheepishly. “Figured I’d bring something since you’ve gone through the trouble of making dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kendall says, taking the proffered bottle. “I appreciate it, though.”

Carlos shrugs and follows Kendall into the kitchen. “Smells good in here.”

“Spaghetti with homemade sauce. No garlic bread, though. Slipped my mind to pick some up.” Kendall’s babbling, knows he’s babbling, but he can’t seem to make himself stop.

“That’s alright,” Carlos says. 

Silence takes over, awkward and stifling. Kendall busies himself with getting the spaghetti into the pot, trying to figure out what to say.

“So,” Carlos says, before Kendall can come up with anything. “How have you been?”

“Y’know, not too bad,” Kendall says. “I’ve been doing some theater stuff, and it’s going pretty well. How’ve you been?” He lowers his voice, the words coming out soft and gentle.

“I’ve been alright,” Carlos replies, voice just as soft. “A lot of changes and adjusting, but I’m doing okay.”

“Oh?” Kendall tries to sound as unobtrusive as he can, letting Carlos share what he wants without pushing.

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t know if Erin told you, but I closed CP Entertainment, left the film industry altogether.”

“No, Erin didn’t say anything,” Kendall says, frowning. It’s not like he really asked her about Carlos, though. After their last encounter, he didn’t really want to talk about Carlos, and after Katelyn told her everything that happened, Erin didn’t offer any details.

“Oh.” Carlos hums softly, drumming his fingers against the countertop. “But, yeah. I’ve pretty much had to rebuild my life from the ground up. I’ve actually started writing about what happened, my experiences and everything, and it’s helped a lot.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Kendall says, heartfelt.

“I’m sorry about how everything happened,” Carlos says softly, barely above a whisper.

“What?” Kendall says, face scrunched up in confusion. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Carlos. That was all on me. I was a dick, and I had no right saying any of those things to you.”

“But I do,” Carlos says strongly. “I was stuck in a lie, thought that if I said it enough, hoped hard enough, I really would be straight, and even though the way you went about it was beyond dickish, it really did help. I’m not 100% better and it might take a little longer before I am, but right now, I’m a hundred times more comfortable and okay with who I am.”

“I’m happy for you, Carlos,” Kendall says, smiling softly. He busies himself with removing the noodles from the heat, straining out the water before grabbing plates and wine glasses from the cupboard. He serves them up a healthy portion, spooning the sauce over the top.

“I wish things could have gone differently all those months ago,” Carlos says softly, staring down at his plate when Kendall places it in front of him. “I’ve tried dating a few guys since then, and it was alright, but something was missing.”

Kendall freezes and takes a calming breath. Of course Carlos would be out there dating. Why shouldn’t he have been? Just because Kendall hasn’t so much as looked at another guy in months doesn’t mean it would be the same for Carlos. He needs to figure out what he likes, what he’s attracted to now that he’s started embracing who he is. That doesn’t mean that Kendall has to like it, though.

“Did you figure out what it was?” Kendall asks, setting the filled wine glasses down between their plates.

“Yeah,” Carlos says, twirling his fork between his fingers. “You.”

Kendall chokes on a breath. He didn’t just—did he?

“I’ve missed you, Kendall,” Carlos admits, stealing the breath right from Kendall’s lungs. “I tried being angry at you, tried hating you for everything I lost, but I couldn’t. I just—I just missed you.”

“Me, too,” Kendall says, thinking of that gaping, empty hole that’s been inside him when he realized what he could’ve had, what he lost. “This could be our second chance.” He looks up through his lashes at Carlos, holding his breath.

Carlos’ eyes are wide in surprise, mouth partly open. “You still…?”

Kendall smiles shyly, gaze shifting from Carlos to the counter then back. “Yeah,” he says softly, “never stopped.”

Carlos’ answering smile is as bright as a thousand suns. “Neither did I.”

Maybe they’ll both get the happily ever after they were looking for after all.


End file.
